Faithful, Furry, Fearsome Feline

This is Sam, Mum's cat and faithful companion of fifteen years.
See his nose? It is the nose of a prize fighter, scratched many times by challengers to his turf, and healed over repeatedly. Now the scar tissue falls off frequently and "the Champ" submits to it being gently bathed regularly by my brother, Robert.
He looks benign, but let your guard down at your peril. While in England I softened when he wound himself around my legs in the morning, rubbing himself against me as if to show affection. Mum's carer, Catherine; a pragmatic Yorkshire lass, had it right when I told her hopefully that Sam had been so affectionate to me one morning.
"He must want something," she said, with a knowing look.
She was right--it had been breakfast time after all. The next time, I stroked him, encouraged by his apparant change of heart, he turned his head, opened his mouth swiftly and his teeth gripped my hand in a warning bite. I went back to tolerating him and appreciating him for the sake of who he is to Mum!