I recently adopted a new kitten. Her name is Isabella.

It’s an innocent enough name for an innocent looking being. But come to find out, innocent she is not.

This kitten is a beast. A wild one. Domesticated, sure. But domestic? Well, you can draw that conclusion for yourself.

As I write this the feline — “Izzy Whizzy” my truly innocent niece has dubbed her — is gnawing at my ankle. In fact, there is very little of my anatomy that this cat has not gnawed at within the short period I have claimed her as my fur baby.

My hands look like they’ve been hacked by tiny axes.

Yes, tiny axes. That pretty much describes her claws. And teeth...

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