There's very few instances where I find myself seeing red, irrationally violent toward my fellow man. I've led a life where I've had good reason to not trust, be leery of and downright dislike other human beings, and that's given me the ability to try and reason with my reactions and try to understand them better. The exception is those who are purposefully cruel or act in blatant disregard to animals.
A friend of mine owned a quasi-flophouse and had a tenant that threw a black, long-haired kitten repeatedly against a wall. This cat's name was Calvin. When I heard about this, we broke into the guy's room (he wasn't there, luckily) to deal with him, and ended up taking and selling most of his stuff. We ended up donating the money (and the rest of the stuff) to the SPCA and left the receipt and donation tax form on the floor of the empty room. His eviction was well heard.
Calvin stayed at the house for many years, until the flophouse owner couldn't afford to keep him. He was a good cat, if not a little messed up in the head (he'd hiss when you pet him, attack his food dish as if it were threatening his life, would be found sleeping in the shower, loved water, and seemed to see and hear things everyone else could not...). I ended up taking him to another fellow, a nice guy who lived nearby who had a stroke. He had an evil cat named Pepper that would attack any person--but not cats. The two crazy cats loved each other, and the poor old guy had a new friend.
About five years later, a black, long-haired cat came to the flophouse. I happened to be hanging out. It slipped through the basement window and ended up in my lap as I sat on a computer making music. He hissed when I pet him. There was a distinctive crook in the end of his tail. Calvin had come back, across town. I tried to call the man who I sent him to, but a woman answered and said he has passed away last week.
What I could tell was Calvin, too, was saying goodbye. He was older now, maybe 13 or 14, had few teeth, gray hairs on his nose, some cloudiness in his eyes...he stayed around the flophouse for about a week, and then vanished. Perhaps hit was his way of saying "thank you," too. I did the best I could, and so did he. I was more messed up about him showing up, then leaving (and knowing why) than I admitted to myself at the time.
I have never really owned a cat, but cats have apparently owned me a few times. They are remarkable animals.
I hope "Drive-by" or "Erin" or whatever this cat ends up being called ends up being the coolest cat in the world for you, Ian. 8) I have a feeling there's something other-worldly at work when an animal painfully leaves the presence of someone unworthy and finds those who are. Animals bounce back (quite literally) far better than humans, and still find it possible to love and trust even after trauma. I suppose, too, that's the lesson I try to learn from them, because if they can do it, so can I.
(Long story, sorry about that.)
8)
Had her for 18 years and she loved that name 
