My dad said he chased down and caught a squirrel once when he was a kid. After he caught it, he couldn't let it go...bit and scratched the heck out of him!
One of my buddies and I were coon hunting when we were kids. We shot a big old bore coon out of a tree, the dogs kinds wallered it, then my buddy said, "I'll show you how to kill it without having to shoot it again." He stood on the coon's chest for a few minutes until it apparently died. Meanwhile, the dogs had hit another track. He picked the coon up by the hind leg and slung it over his shoulder, and we started walking to catch up with the dogs. All of a sudden, my friend hollered, "Son of a bitch!" and started jumping around. I looked and he had a coon dangling from his back! The "dead" coon had come to life and bit him in the back. Fortunately his heavy canvas coat kept the coon's teeth from penetrating his skin, but he felt it nip him and it wasn't inclined to let go. I grabbed it by the back feet and yanked it loose. I dropped it on the ground and shot it in the head with my .22 rifle. I offered after that, but he didn't want to stand on any more of them.