As Tennyson said, "In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love."
The cat has some of those feelings, but in his newly altered and ambivalent state, he doesn't know what to do with himself. He is once again trying to scratch us when we quit petting him. Yesterday I was tucking the towel around his pillow and he attacked my arm. And twice when I stepped off the deck he bounded after me to attack my legs. Luckily I saw him out of the corner of my eye and told him to back off. He has been trying (unsuccessfully) to spray the deck, and he has been itching for a fight. So we knew it was only a matter of time before he found an opponent. The time came last night, and the opponent was the mean cat. The cat must have gotten in a few good licks judging by the black hair beneath his claws, and surprisingly, he doesn't have many scratches on him. I sure hope he got it all out of his system.