Going on the 3rd day I haven seen my feral cat, Grey-Grey. I believe he finally died. I have looked all over my yard to try to find his body with no luck. Two nights ago I woke up at 4am, sat strait up and kinda knew he had crossed the rainbow bridge. Maybe that was true, maybe not, I am still putting food out for him and calling his name. But in my heart, I know he has, on his own terms...gone. It was 2009 that we started feeding Grey. The other neighbors Beth and Gerald, called him Striper. But to us, David and I, he was always Grey. For the last 12 years we have watched him weather so much; from the snows of winter to fights and accesses with other cats and have wormed and flead him when we could. We fed him every day for the last twelve years. When we were gone for art shows, Harriet would feed him. In the last year, because we have been home so much, we have been feeding him usually three times a day. In the Winter warming his Fancy Feast and milk and putting out dry. Knowing he was getting older and winters were getting harder on him we fed him multiple times a day. He was putting on weight and looking pretty good. We made a bed for him as did Beth and Gerald and put out heated pads on the porch so he could stay warm, which in his finickiness, he would walk around and never stand on. We tried and tried over the years to pull him inside or to just touch him to no avail. He was the most stealthy cat I ever had come across and the smartest. When most Feral's live for around 6 years, he made it 12, maybe more as we saw him first as an adult in 2009. Never once was I ever able to touch him. I could get close but he just would never cross that barrier. I often wondered what happened to make him so terribly scared of people. We tried every type of humane trap we knew of, but he was too smart for all of it. I remember cold nights where I would put out blankets and see blood marks in the snow where the cold would make his feet bleed. I do know that a few years ago he hurt his left paw, he must have broken it and we tried to get him to a vet and he would have none of it. I asked for help from the Feral rescue group a few times but never got the help to turn him into a house cat, which I desperately wanted. He got along great with Ziggy and I would walk outside in the Summer and see them laying about two feet apart napping. About a week ago he came and didn't look good. I could see it in his eyes. I tried to coax him inside- he came close, he knew I could help him, but he just couldn't. I knew we were in trouble when for 3 days he wouldn't eat. I am not sure if he had a respratory infection or heart worms or kidney failure or what. I just wanted to get him to a vet and take care of him. Or at least to keep him from suffering. We almost got him, he was in the house we built for him and David and I went out with a towel to trap him, and we almost had him, but in amazing Grey fashion, he jumped above the towel and took off. We both were so upset, because we had gotten so close. The next day, last Thursday, he came in the morning but he could barely walk. I tried again to pull him inside but he got away and even though he was wobbly and tipping over, he turned around at the end of the driveway as if to say goodbye to me. I kind of knew he was saying goodbye. I let him go. I have never loved anything that was so independent, so much. In his own way I know, he loved me back. I also know he lived and died on his own terms. This has been such a life lesson for me. I may never know what happed to Grey Grey but he is the truest example of unrequited love I have ever known. I hope he is playing somewhere warm and getting as much Fancy Feast and warm milk as he can down. He was the sweetest, most polite and most individualistic cat I have ever been privy to be help take care of. Special thanks to everyone who helped Grey / Striper through the years and especially at the end. I think we all can agree that he certainly was a character. I know someday, I will see him down the road.