Sad news. Poor MickeyPickey/Sam the Skull/Spirit died a few weeks ago. It was very sad. He was tottering about and obviously very poorly. I often had him on our sofa wrapped in a fluffy blanket, and he was drinking gallons of water (sure sign of kidney problems/diabetes)
One evening I had to call my neighbour's daughter round (veterinary nurse) and she reckoned he was 'on the way'. We carried him down to the owner's house and he tottered through his cat-flap (they weren't in)
Next morning, he was lying in the middle of the road gasping for air, and obviously actually dying. Again, nobody was in. I posted him through again into his house. That evening another neighbour came to our door to tell me that he had died in the night. So his owners hadn't even sought help for him, just left him to get on with it. I cried and cried.
On a happier note, little Archie the rescued kitten has discovered bungalow roofs! He gets onto ours via the conservatory sloping roof and sits right up near the chimney pot trying to nab birds. He's a real character.
I still find myself in tears sometimes in the evening missing SmokeyPokey. Don't cats get into ones heart?