One day last month, he used the sofa as a litter box a few times before we caught it. I put him in isolation, but let him out and he bolted for the door, never to be seen again.
He was 9 years old, born in our bathtub, and a true indoor/outdoor cat.. He fought many a brave battle and had the torn ears and battle scars to prove it. He was a gentlecat to his friends, though.
May Bast embrace his warrior soul!
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