Once upon a time, there was a little black cat with a white spot on his chest who lived outside. There were many houses around, but none of them were his. There were many people around, but none of them were his. He was all alone.
One day, he found a bowl of food outside a house. No one seemed to mind, so he helped himself. The next day, the bowl was refilled, so he helped himself again. Again and again, the food kept coming back, and eventually, a woman began to join him. He let her pet him, but he was too scared to let her pick him up. But she was nice and brought him food, so he kept coming back.
After a while, the food was in a box. How strange! But he was hungry, so he went inside. BANG! The box slammed shut behind him, and the woman came and took him somewhere where he saw a doctor who cut off the tip of his ear. Ow! Then the women took him back and put him in a dark, scary garage. But a man came out and opened the door, and the cat bolted out!
The woman was afraid she'd never see the cat again, but after a week, he was hungry, so he came back, meowing for food and attention.
It got cold outside, very cold, and one night when colorful lights were exploding is the sky, the cat came back for food. This time, the woman grabbed him and before he could fight her, brought him inside her house which was nice and warm and quiet. She stayed with him all night while the lights exploded outside. There were other cats, and eventually they liked him, and there were other people, but he liked the woman best, and there was always food and a warm lap and pets.
He had a house and it was his. He had a person and she was his. And he lived happily ever after to the end of his days.
RIP Brumus. You had 13 wonderful years as the happiest cat I'll ever know. What better life could a cat have asked for?