We lost one today.
Rum-tum-tugger. Our oldest cat. Ryan got him when he moved here in 2001 which makes him 11+ years old. He's our old and grumpy tabby cat. He went from being top dog to being the bottom of the cat. He sneaks in the garage daily - driving us crazy. But he's a good cat. Gone are the days of his acrobatic career but he still loves to be held and cuddled.
Until today. Ryan's parents were leaving and Mark thought he'd hit Rum. When Ryan went to scoop him up, it was clear that he'd been laying there a while. Which means I hit him when I came in the driveway a few hours earlier. Gulp. I wanted less cats roaming around, acting like wild animals each time I go out on the porch but I wanted to give a few away, not hit one. Oh Rum, I'm so sorry. I never even saw you. Mark, I'm sorry that you thought you were the one who hit him.
To the remaining kitties outside, please know that running in front of the van and trying to sneak in the garage is not a wise decision. The garage is just as cold as the porch. And besides, when you sneak in the garage, you miss feeding time...