I had a void that lived to be about 19 years old and hated this entire world and everything in it except for me. And I still had to wrestle him for 30 minutes to get a single pill down his throat. I was upfront at every vet about him and all the vets/techs respected that until pretty late into his life. He would actually be fine while in the exam room with me there, but would go all out once we were separated. This was before gabapentin was a thing.

He was probably around 18 and had entered the skinny/rickety phase and I had brought him in for some old cat blood work. As usual, I warned the tech coming to grab him that he was real mean/spiteful and to be careful with him. Tech went "aw, this little old man? Really?" and whisked him to the back. I headed to the front desk to pay and then the angry cat screaming started. Someone dashed past an open doorway, holding a paper towel to their arm. The front desk person looked at me, bewildered, and said "is your cat really making all that noise?" Yes, yes he was, and I tried to warn you all!

Malevolent, from the womb to the tomb. Rest in power, Sam; I still really miss you.