In the Spring of 2007, an adult male black and white cat started hanging around my yard watching me gardening. If I spoke to him, he took off, but since I left food out for him, he always returned. After about two months of this, he decided to trust me and we never looked back. I named him Spike because he was a large alpha male willing to fight to make sure no other cats tried to move in and no, this behavior did not change even after I got him neutered. I already had a sweet male cat named Himmish who quickly acquiesced to Spike's leadership role by letting Spike sleep on the bed with me while he took a cat bed on the chair. After a couple months of happy coexistence, my sister called to say she had trapped three feral cats (one mother and two kittens) and asked if I would take the male kitten. I hesitated, wondering what Spike would think about another cat, let alone a male cat, in the house, but said I'd give it a try. Once the kitten, named Adam, arrived, it was as if he was what Spike had been waiting for. It was love at first sight. Spike groomed Adam and helped him destroy plants, blinds, furniture, etc., previously ignored. Since Spike had been on the streets, maybe it was his first chance at acting like a kitten. It was a happy home for many years and I have many wonderful memories of my beloved Spike. As is life, Spike grew older, went completely blind, and in time had to be euthanized. He was my soul cat and I miss him dearly. The vet approximated his age at 15 when he passed. Both Himmish and Adam are alive and happy at ages 18 and 11 respectively, but the loss of Spike has certainly left a hole in our hearts. The picture is of Spike and Adam.