The bitch who spawned my evil ex-husband had the world's ugliest cat. (note: That's not him in the picture) Temperment-wise, he was fine; I think he was trying to kill himself to get away from her, and his suicide attempts had left him maimed and deformed.

First, he tried escaping. He'd run out, filling his lungs with the blissful air of freedom, only to be dragged back kicking and screaming into his private hell. Once he tried to kill himself by launching himself at a raccoon -- kind of like when people commit suicide by standing in front of a bus. Unfortunately for him, he survived -- minus one eye. It stayed in his head, clouded over with a sickly blue cataract, but at least the socket wasn't empty.

Then, he licked all the fur off his back legs and rear. The vet said cats do that to themselves when they have a "nervous condition" -- code for "bat-shit crazy", I guess. So his ass end was bald.

Finally, he tried to choke himself on something called Caramel Nips, which his doting, smothering owner purchased for him by the bagful. Try as he might, he never managed to clog his airway -- but he did manage to rot his teeth away.

So, there he was, one bulbous, useless, milky eye hanging by a thread; naked from the waist down; one bedraggled tooth left in his gaping maw; still hurling himself out the door at every possible opportunity. I felt for the little guy, I really did. Lucky for me, I managed to escape before he did. This was many years ago, so I'm sure the welcome embrace of death has come to claim him by now.

Rest in peace, Chewbacca.