We called him Cop Car because he was black and white. Cop died like he lived...free and on his own terms. He came to us about 8 years ago and decided we were his. We have no idea how old he was, and he had a crooked tail that curled over his flank. We fed, sheltered and kept him warm but he wouldn't let us touch him. We'd sneak up on him with a bowl of tuna in one hand and a syringe to squirt flea meds on him in the other...and we'd usually get him and he'd be incensed for a few days...maybe go "walkabout" and we'd worry he was gone. Then, there he'd be...broken tail waving. covered with leaves, but home again...and ready to eat. He was my constant companion when I was out grilling...he KNEW there would be a little burger or some grilled salmon, etc., just for him...and there always was. If we left town, our lovely pet sitter always looked out for him and kept him fed and watered...but he didn't like it at all. When we'd get home he'd come up on the back steps and talk, talk, talk...like "where were you, how come you left me, what's going on, are ya gonna stay home for awhile...meow...meow. When we knew a couple days ago he was really failing we decided he needed to be able to die as he lived...where and when he wanted...unless we knew he was in pain. And he did...he came to his little house with the heating pad going...stretched out...ate a little now and then...and this morning after we'd both been out to talk to him, he died quietly....and we carried him for the first and last time. He's in in a place in the sun...where he liked to lay and soak up the rays. Damn, we loved this cat.