Sounds like he's related to the cats our neighbour at the lake had. Betty looked after the property next to us, and in turn used the place for raising her husky-wolf-eskimo dog crosses and as a base for her hunting-guiding operations. She often left the log cabin for long periods, especially in the winter, and as it wasn't nearly mouse proof, she had cats to keep things more or less civlized while she was away. A partly opened window and a wide open bag of cat food was all they needed to survive indefinitely.

Needing to fend for themselves so much apparently led them to develop extremely long fangs, easily double those of normal cats, and their disposition was interesting to say the least. If one sat visiting Betty, the cats would stroll under the chair and rub against your legs (which didn't really thrill me, as I'm not a cat person), but then, without warning or provocation, they would bite you. Not hard enough to draw blood, which they could certainly have done, but hard enough to hurt and make you jump - their point, so to speak.

A few summers ago, Betty called us over to her place. Once in the cabin, she pointed to the logs and beams above, which showed a large number of deep, recent slashes and a few tufts of fur. Some of the fur belonged to one of her cats, but some was the distinctive colour and texture of a lynx. Apparently a hungry lynx had followed the cat in through the window and a wild and prolonged chase had ensued.

The cat was still there, mean as ever.