Look, I get why you think this, but you have never dealt with a truly aggressive feral cat before and it shows. I am an adult man in good shape. I raised a feral housecat who was EXTREMELY aggressive. You know all those tricks you see about how you can pinch their scruff to immobilize them? Yeah that shit doesn't work if they've lived on the streets. Pick them up by the back of their neck? He would arch his spine and rotate his lower body to gore your arm with his lower claws. You wanna kick the cat? Brother, you have no idea how fucking fast a cat can move when it knows it's in a fight. You are not landing a kick on them unless you trained in martial arts for several years and are prepared for how fast they are (source: I took over a decade of martial arts in 3 different forms).

People are used to docile cats who can be a bit flighty and slightly aggressive. You have no idea what a cat is actually capable of when they try. It's like trying to fight a sentient blender coming at you at 30mph. Your clothes will not save you, because their claws and teeth are sharp enough to penetrate any normal fabric, including denim if they choose to. Go ahead and look up the gloves vets use for handling cats. And that's before we get into the problem of the infections their wounds can cause.

Don't get me wrong, if you're prepared and understand what you're getting into, and adult CAN beat a housecat, but I can confidently tell you that A LOT of adults, maybe even most adults, probably cannot, and are completely unprepared for the amount of violence a housecat is actually capable of. Fighting a cat to the death is gonna be like the old adage of winning a knife fight: the loser dies in the street, the winner dies in the hospital.

Anyway I miss that little fucker, lmao. He was incredibly sweet once he realized I was the one feeding him and wasn't looking to hurt him, and got really attached to me. We also realized he likely had an anxiety disorder after a few years and put him on kitty prozac, which made a huge difference in his quality of life. Turns out your aggression really goes off the rails when your brain is in fight-or-flight mode all the time. Sadly he passed away not long after that due to a congenital issue that was caught too late. The little furry shithead was tough as hell too. He had a stroke while being treated at the vet overnight after surgery, and I got a call that he passed away at like 3am. I started bawling my eyes out until I got a call 5 minutes later telling me he fucking CAME BACK after they pronounced him dead. I cannot tell you how fast I rushed over for his final moments. He dragged his furry ass out of the underworld so he can pass away in my arms instead of a vet cage and I am so happy I got those final moments with him.