The cat too has now grown tired of being pushed away, and he has a scolding of his own for me. He latches onto my arm and sinks is revengeful teeth into my unsuspecting arm. Fight or flight? I quickly squirt em with his arch nemesis: the squirt bottle. He fumes out the room with his ears cocked back and his tail puffed out. We’re both mad, and that’s the end of it. Accept now I’ve got this vampire bite on my arm. It’s not one of those stylish accessories you’d want to show off like a hickey. (I find those to be disgusting, but some people parade them around as if there some sort of trophy.)