When my uncle was growing up in Alaska, the guy who owned the big General Store in town had a pet bobcat.

From what my uncle said, the guy was a mountain of a man, so at first you’d see him across the store holding the bobcat and petting it, and be like, ‘oh, normal guy with a cat.’ And then you’d get closer and be like ‘Oh… that’s a bobcat.’

When not demanding pets, the bobcat would spend his time going from exposed rafter to exposed rafter, monitoring his domain.