No, not how. I know how. There is more than one way, after all.
The question is why skin a cat.
I can give you one that has recently been made known to me.
Last night Ruth laid out the foundational work for the lunch I brought today. She put chips, a plate, and a bag of sesame seed (the only kind I can see paying money for) hamburger buns in my lunch bag and she put the two leftover hamburger patties in a container in the refrigerator and put two slices of cheese right by them. (Yes I do appreciate her, and yes I did thank her for doing this.)
Now my lunch bag is a cubic-shaped thing about eighteen inches by twelve inches by ten inches which, I suppose is not technically cubic-shaped but close enough and the term 'cubic-shaped' is much less egg-heady than the more precise term parallelepiped and we all know cutting down on the egghead factor won't hurt me any. The outer surface of this container is a backpack-ish kind of dark blue nylon and the sides are not hard, but stiff enough to make the bag hold it's shape under some weight.
Some weight, that is, not say, ten pounds or so.
For some stupid reason our dumb, lousy cat decided to sleep on top of my lunch bag last night and she smashed the entire bag of hamburger buns that was in it! Fortunately, very fortunately they weren't totally crushed and the chips were undamaged. She's also lucky she's fast because she was able to evade my grasp as she jumped off the dining room table when I first came downstairs this morning.
So now you know why I would have skinned a cat today.
As I continued to pursue her, though, struggling to suppress the carnage boiling within me, my ride arrived and her demise was postponed for another day.