The knowledge that cats will eat dead humans, even their beloved dead human staff, has saved my life a few times. I'm frequently plagued by clinical depression, and I've wanted to commit suicide more times than I can count. But my late-night death wishes are invariably stopped by the idea of my three cats happily lapping up what remained of my splattered brain.
There is no such thing as a domesticated cat--there are only smaller cats and larger cats. And in spite of everything, I'm still a fool for 'em.