Mr Jingles died about an hour ago. He's been going downhill for a few days. He stayed around here yesterday, but I could tell he was declining rapidly. I kept him hydrated and gave him baby food, but his breathing had changed and he was much less active. He let me hold him yesterday afternoon for longer than he ever has. I told him what I tell all my sick babies... how much I love them, what good babies they are, and if they need to go, it's okay. I considered bringing him inside, to our spare room, but he's never been an inside kind of cat. He doesn't even like to be held. As sick as he was, he cried to get down.
He was much worse this morning. Rapid breathing, that smell, the look in his eyes. I held him as much as he would let me. Then I just sat beside him and talked to him and petted him. He waited until I went uptown to get cat treats and lunch and he died while I was gone.
He was never a permanent resident here, but he's been coming by for a few years to eat and tolerate a little affection. He would probably be amused to hear me say he was "my cat." He used to come by with a new collar and jingle bell, and I wish I could let whoever put it on him know that he's gone.