Dog, no.
I too had a cat rescuer.
I trained my new kitten to play fight on signal, and no other time was acceptable.
When my cat was just under a year old, I moved away from my mom’s home to another state.
I took a job at a truck stop/hotel/restaurant. Part of my employment included a hotel room to live in, and one meal a day free. My cat was welcome.
It was soon that some guy came to town looking for trouble. He tried to hook up with me, and I turned him down. He persisted. When I refused again, he threatened to catch me alone, rape me and dump my body.
He tried.
One evening, my doorknob rattled, and again, and then he unlocked the door. Fortunately, the chain lock held. He reached in to pull the chain free, and nearly succeeded. My cat was sitting next to me on the bed.
He stared at the intruding fingers, his whole body was flexed to leap. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get my cat killed to maybe save me. But why else did I train him? The chain was slid nearly to the point of coming loose. The guy was breathing heavy, and patiently working the chain.
I gave the signal, a quick, quiet hiss.
My cat leaped, turning in midair, landed facing the narrow opening in the door. Soon as he landed, he sprang through that narrow opening, leaving the room at about chest high. The hand disappeared. I rushed the door and locked it again.
Not a sound came from outside. I waited. I was afraid to look out the window because if he saw me he might be motivated to break the window.
I called the front desk. The clerk had been busy, and when a man asked for his key, she didn’t notice he gave my room number. She was beside herself. I told her I didn’t blame her, but could she have someone look to see if either the man, or my cat was around.
The maintenance man checked, and saw nothing and noone.
Certain my cat was killed, I cried.
After more than an hour, I heard scratching at the door. I’m no fool, that guy figured he could get me to open it. I sounded as mean as I could, and asked who was it.
I heard a cat.
I said his name, and he meowed back. Hesitantly, fearfully, I cracked open the door. My cat was standing there, waiting to come in!
As soon as I let him in, he sat in the middle of the floor and preened. The show off!
A couple of days later, I walked the mile downtown to check my mail. I saw ahead, an odd man coming toward me. He was odd, in that he was the only person in this hot, desert town wearing jeans, and a long sleeved shirt.
As he got nearer, I realized it was that guy.
He must have recognized me at the same time, because he crossed to the other side of the street. When we were directly across from each other, I saw the reason for his attire.
Every bit of exposed skin was scratched to bits.
He left town a couple of hours later, and did not return.
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