As children, we were adopted by a male tabby cat, part ferral I think. He used to take himself off for two or three days at a time in the summer. We never knew where he went, but it was his downfall eventually. He arrived home in a dreadful state after one of these adventures. Shaking and foaming at the mouth. The vet made a house call and reckoned that he had been poisoned, probably with rat poison. He tried to treat him, to no avail, and had to euthanase him. My lovely grandad buried him in the garden for us.
On a happier note, when my DD got married she acquired two kittens. A brother and sister. The boy is grey, with beautiful markings and the girl is a tabby with an unusual two tone face, half dark brown and half ginger. They are nine years old now, and live with four lively children. They are very long suffering, and patient. Lovely cats.