Yes, but it was not intentional on the part of the animal.  I was cleaning the teeth of a fully anesthetized Sumatran tiger when the cat suffered a brief seizure and suddenly shut her mouth, pulling the ropes that held her jaws open out of the keeper's hands.

I'd anesthetized the tiger so that we could perform her annual health exam. We’d found tartar on her back molars. When we clean the teeth of any animal, especially those with large teeth, we place a metal or wooden block between the canines to serve as a mouth gag, so that if the jaws clamp down, the molars cannot meet. In this case, though, a block would be in the way, preventing me from reaching as far into the mouth as I needed to. Instead, we looped two pieces of rope around the tiger’s upper and lower jaw, and two keepers held the mouth wide open for me. Suddenly, in a split second, the cat's entire body stiffened and her muscles seized--a rare but not unprecedented side effect of anesthesia. Her jaws clamped shut and opened again. She relaxed, still fully anesthetized.

I had to remove my plastic glove and examine my hand to be certain of what had happened--that her two canines had indeed met in the middle. In fact, they’d gone right through the soft tissue, missing the bones. I could see the two holes, which were remarkably small. Neither bled.

Fortunately, we’d finished the procedure except for the last bits of tartar. The vet staff quickly cleared all the equipment from the holding cage. I gave the tiger her anesthetic reversal, left the cage, and promptly sat down in the hallway nearby, knowing I would soon become dizzy. There was no fracture, but I knew to worry about a cat bite of any size. It didn’t help that it was my right hand, and I'm right-handed.

The first physician I saw, an emergency room intern, flushed the wound and told me to see a hand surgeon or maybe take antibiotics if the hand swelled. After a horribly painful night, my hand was the size of a grapefruit and the swelling had started up my arm. I went to a surgeon who examined me quickly, remarked that his father, also a physician, had once seen a wild tiger in India, and scheduled surgery for the next day. I wasn't impressed with his comment or his plan.

Fortunately, several of my keeper friends knew of a terrific hand doctor who had experience with animal bite wounds. Though also a skilled surgeon, he understood that cat bites do their damage by injecting bad bugs into the tissue, and that flushing puncture wounds in the hand can create compartment syndrome. I recovered after two weeks of daily bandage changes, powerful antibiotics—and no surgery. Thank you, Dr. Faludi!