My "eating the cat" story.
About 10 or 12 years ago, my sister-in-law separated from her husband who she ultimately divorced. They really worked hard, both of them, despite real hard feelings, to remain civil with each other for the benefit of the kids, but lived separately, tried to remain on superficially "friendly" terms.
My ex-brother-in-law took my niece's cat to live with him; in the separation the cat was "his."
My sister-in-law, in the meantime, decided to adopt a dog which she said was part Dingo. The dog seemed like a nice dog, except it developed that the dog had this habit of attacking small animals, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks all ended up dead in the dog's mouth.
Meanwhile, my ex-brother-in-law fell into some financial difficulties and asked to move in, with the cat.
This of course, created a problem, for the cat, who the dog chased immediately and was only saved by hiding behind furniture.
So they put the cat in the basement, and restrained the dog whenever they opened the door to feed the cat, change the litter box. The cat couldn't stop crying.
So my sister-in-law asked us to watch the cat for a few weeks until her ex found a place to live. The cat, now an old lady, has now been here for about 10 years.
For the first week or two, on arrival, the cat was traumatized, hiding on beds, behind furniture. She had been stuck in a basement after being chased by a huge dog, then unceremoniously stuffed into a cat carrier, driven from Western Massachusetts to Central Jersey, released into a home to people she didn't know. Finally, one day, after she'd hidden under my son's bed for a few days, and we worried she might starve or become dehydrated, my boys lifted the bed up, I captured the cat in my arms, walked her around the house to show it, scratching her head and petting her, offering her a can of tuna - which she wouldn't touch - and finally shutting the doors to the bedrooms so she couldn't get back under a bed, put her down, were she immediately ran behind the love seat, and wouldn't come out. Eventually, my oldest son, a tall young man with very long arms, began reaching behind the love seat, petting her head. We decided to get her stoned with catnip toys, and eventually she came out and interacted with my boys, and my wife, but remained terrified of me.
Slowly but surely, she stopped running behind the love seat whenever she saw me. In my sense of humor, when finally she let me pet her, I started saying to her while petting her, "Nobody likes cats! I don't know why I have a cat! What I wanted was a dog that eats cats! Somebody gave me a cat instead!" Well, I couldn't stop this rhetoric, and now - she's a pretty smart cat - she thinks that whenever I repeat these phrases, this means she's going to be petted, fed, played with, etc. People come in the house and hear me say these things to the cat and are amazed she comes over and starts purring.
The dog in question - which remains alive and is still a terror and has graduated from destroying small animals to destroying furniture, but is otherwise friendly - was not from Haiti, and although he is descended from Australian dogs or quasi-dogs, was born in the USA, and thus is not an immigrant.
Thus far nobody has actually eaten the cat; she's still here, but freaks out whenever she's put in a carrier for a trip to the vet. I calm her on the drive by purring, "Nobody likes cats! I don't know why I have a cat! What I wanted was a dog that eats cats! Somebody gave me a cat instead!" It makes her feel better, and generally she calms on the drive.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it; there's no one eating cats around here.
= new reply since forum marked as read
Thank you from a cat lover. Great reverse psychology, they love that. 
