So this is the third dead cat story I've shared with e2.
Midnight, the (predictably) black cat, already belonged to my wife when I met her. He lived to be nineteen, when he developed cancer in his jaw. We had him euthanized. He lived a long life, as felines measure it, and appeared to know his last days had arrived.
Slim, a stray who moved in, had already been named by neighbourhood kids. We bonded as I have with no other non-human being. She liked to wander, climb trees, and hunt, but she always came back, usually greeted me when I returned home. A car took her life at night, while she was still in her prime. She hung out with Pyro, a cat who lives with C, across the street. The day after she died, he wandered around our yard, wandered around places they went, sniffing sadly. I am not anthropomorphizing. Pyro missed her.
Two years ago, we adopted another feral cat, Artemis. She'd been living in a farmer's field…