I lost my black cat Tybalt in a storm on December 23 this past year. He was a hardened downtown tom that I took in as a stray - I only got to have his company for a few months. He remained something of an outdoor cat because he knew no other life and could not be trained to use a litter box; believe me, I tried very hard and I've had multiple cats in the past. I like to think I gave him a peaceful final chapter with warm shelter, lots of food, and medical treatment; he reacted badly to most attempts at affection, but there were times when he'd be lovable and sit on my lap. He used to rest at my feet like a dog sometimes when I'd go out on the step to smoke my pipe - I'd also trained him to run back to the house from anywhere in the neighborhood whenever he heard my whistling. I miss seeing the little guy curled up in his spot on my Lazy Boy, hope he went without suffering. The only pictures I had of him are on my cellphone.