My sister had a cat who was declawed (not by her), medicated, old, sort of inbred, and had lived inside all his life. A more harmless cat you could barely imagine. He regularly found it a challenge to drink his water without fucking it up, and spent a lot of time just staring at the wall.
He once found a moth that was already damaged when he got to it, and successfully killed it. He carried the moth around in his mouth, clearly basking in the intoxicating flood of pride of the hunter he was feeling, for almost an hour before eating the whole thing.