Once upon a time I had a really nice quiet household with two cats, Missy and Cheetah. Everything was going along just fine when a little cat showed up on my doorstep. I thought she was so cute and she was such a loving little animal (and she was a cat . . . big surprise) so I let her move in with me (assuming that I had any control at all over the situation.)
I really enjoyed her company. She had a couple of problems and drove my friends crazy with them. She had the most horrible flatulence. She would stand on their legs with her tail pointed towards their faces (supposedly so they would pet her) and then she would cut loose with a fart that would drive them to throw her off of their laps.
I was determined to let her be an inside/outside cat and didn't keep her in at the right time and she got pregnant. I decided to let her have the kittens because I had heard that having a litter can mellow her out, and since she was already such a nice neat cat, I let her go through with it. WRONG! She was never the same, she became an over-protective mama kitty and in a small way never forgave me for keeping three of the kittens. They would do something . . . anything, and she would turn to me and give me the dirtiest look, like she was saying, "It's your fault, you know, you kept them!"
I got Mama fixed while the kittens were still nursing and I'm sure that her tummy was sensitive. I took the kittens to the vet's office for their first check-u and mention was made that they didn't have whiskers. I had no clue why but decided to keep an eye on them. One day as I was watching them nurser I noticed that when Mama cleaned their little faces she would grab a hold of a whisker in her teeth and snap it off. She would let her daughters nurse on her long after they were grown cats, but in retaliation she would still snap off the whiskers.