I was at dinner talking with an old acquaintance last night when I was reminded of an incident between my son and my in-laws' cat. We spent Christmas of 2002 with my sister-in-law and her family. Now I'm not really a cat person, but I have to say that their cat ranks up there with the better cats I've run across in my life (James' cat Tounces was probably #1). My son Benjamin was 3 at the time and thought the cat was simply amazing--so much so he followed it around constantly.
One day we adults were in the living room with the cat amongst begging for attention when Benjamin walked in the room. The cat gave Benjamin an evil eye and a wide berth, high-tailing it out the nearest exit. Up until then we had noticed subtle clues that Benjamin and the cat didn't get along real well, but this episode made it clear that they were now arch-enemies. We asked Benjamin why he and the cat didn't get along. He replied:
"Well...I don't know. But when I pull his tail, he goes 'Wwwwhhhheeeeekkkkk' and runs!"
Cats are off the list at Das Ritterhaus.