You guys got me shedding tears for Albatross, the white cat who knew how good he looked on the ledge outside the carriage-house window where he used to live on the grounds of a dilapidated mansion, happy to have his photo taken by the occasional tourist wandering by.  And he knew how good he looked on the roommates navy wool blanket, leaving a white cat-shadow when he left.  And how sad he was when his buddy Klondike died, until I found him under some bushes outside, brought him in and used a damp sponge to lick off his dirty head, telling him it would be alright.  Then he was trapped in the locked barn for 2 weeks until we gave up and picked up the food bowls, then was heard and rescued. And taking him for walks at night with his new tortoise-shell roommate he wandering through the corn like a ghost and she blacker than a black hole who could only be found by looking for the spot from which no light was escaping.  Alby died, most likely from a scorpion sting, remembering, I like to think, his wildness inside.