This striking kitty isn't an alley cat who works out regularly. It's a Scottish Wildcat, a subspecies of the European Wildcat nowadays found only in the moors and glens of the Scottish Highlands. A rugged, handsome and famously untameable cat, it's the source of the clan motto "Touch not the cat but with a glove." Words of wisdom.
There are estimated to be only about 400 of these terrible beauties left. Nowadays, the biggest danger to the species isn't hunting or habitat destruction - it's hybridization with the domestic cat.
You can see how this happens. You're a pampered housecat in a safe place, sheltered and protected, with everything provided. You have so much cat food and cream, and so many safe and clever toys, that maybe you've never even killed a mouse. Life is so easy. You are so lucky. And yet...and yet...sometimes, in the middle of one of your six-times-daily naps perhaps, you wonder. Is this all there is? You dimly remember that you come from a proud line of predators. Your bones and your blood remember the joy of stalking, of hiding in the wild long grass and scaling trees for birds. Across the manicured yard, one day you catch a glimpse of this handsome stranger, whose piercing eyes and untrimmed claws call to you. Like the ghost of Cathy after Heathcliff, you bound across the moor, the mere scent of this dashing, untamed rogue making you yowl with longing and lift your tail wantonly....
Wow. That made me sound like a total fucking furry, didn't it? Oh well. I care not - I love him! Go to the link and help save the Scottish Wildcat! The genre of feline bodice-ripper romance demands it!
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