I grew up in the 'burbs'. We had a 14 pound chocolate point male siamese that was all muscle and pure hambone. I could pound his backm like a dog's and he'd purr. He answered to his name, not kitty kitty.
He used to wait behind a small concrete fence for a dog to stroll by on the sidewalk and then chase him down the avenue. The lady who lived behind us hated him because he'd come into her home through the cat door, beat up both her cats, chasing them outside, eat all the food in the pet dish, and on one memorable occasion was found sleeping on her bed upon her return from work. He was killed by a neighbor and we could prove nothing.
Last cat I ever had was killed by illegal aliens of the criminal class who hated me for unknown reasons. I'd had him nine years and he'd beem through it all with me.
Got to get used to shitheads taking things and even people away from you.
munk