(Panama City Beach)
When my fiancee and I moved into our new place, we saw a black and white cat with a small half-mustache hanging around the courtyard. Consensus seemed to be that his owner had died, but we never verified that.
He started hanging around our patio, and we fed him until the weather turned cold. He didn't protest when we took him in, got him fixed and vaccinated, and integrated him in with the other cats.
He particularly took a shine to our old, grumpy ex-feral girl, Angel. Although she'd swat him and hiss, he wouldn't take no for an answer. If we ever wondered where he was, the common answer was 'mooning over Angel.'
He decided, early on, that he was my cat, and he'd swat and nip my fiancee when she tried to pet him, a game we called swat-bat-cat. He would go on like this for a very long term in cat-time, up to five minutes.
We'd started calling him Tom-tom because when he'd been outside, he found his way back from his wanderings like a GPS unit. But his unrequited romance and his quirky personality soon earned him the name 'Moonbat Cat' or just 'Moon.'
From a little skinny cat with a big head, he's morphed into a twenty-pound blob who loves chest-sitting and armpit-licking, and he's never gotten over his great love no matter how many times she bats him out of the room!