This is posted mostly for slyfoot. I was going to post it to him as a comment; but it is really a story that deserves its own entry.
Once upon a time, I had a calico cat named Casey. She was a real homebody, never left the yard. She came to my family as an adult stray in 1988. I was 16 years old.
Casey made a friend in the neighborhood: an orange tomcat. Perhaps I should say that the orange tomcat thought he made a friend of Casey. Casey wasn't very interested in him; but he fought other toms for her affections just as he fought other toms for the affections of all female cats in the neighborhood. Getting Casey spayed didn't help much. The orange cat continued to hang around the house, skulking around in the garage, lying on the porch, etc. He didn't seem to have a home. He was a ratty old cat, skinny and dirty from hunting mice in the nearby field.
I went away to college and eventually transferred to a second college. Casey aged very gracefully--she was with the family until 2003. My parents lived in that same house until 1998.
The orange cat also aged slowly. But his time finally came. Unfortunately, he met his demise in the garage, much to the dismay of my dad.
Dad had gone out to do some work in the garage and noticed that something stank badly. Searching for the source of the odor, he located the cat lying stiff and still under a workbench. He became angry, thinking about the task of moving all the items off the workbench, moving the bench, scooping up the cat, and burying it. He sighed, yelled about "that stupid cat dying in our garage!" Then he set to work.
As he lifted the workbench, the cat ran off.
Dad yelled again. The crazy cat had never been dead. He had been asleep; and he stank because he was an old dirty alley cat!
I suppose the orange cat is dead by now. But perhaps he's still running out from under people's cars and workbenches. He did seem to have a never-ending supply of lives...