Lost male cat (Corvallis)

Lost near Papa's Pizza off of third.
The pictures were taken during a walk on his first birthday.
He is over two now.
Likely unrecognizable.
.
.
Mo was wearing a breakaway green reflective collar with a bell, not this one.
I replace these often.
Very likely they get torn off in the brambles on his journeys.
He is my best cat.
Escape artist.
Romancer.
Rogue.
Very very dear to me! I have traveled all around the world and was preparing him to tackle the daunting.
Walking on a leash long distances with my dog and I.
Hopping into my pack when it gets tedious.
Stuff.
I pray he returns as Sir Lancelot did.
Oh Gwen! I know it's nigh impossible yet.
.
.
If there are homeless nearby and you hear or see new cat activity please let me know regardless of how far away from my current location.
A kitten raised in the midst of homeless turmoil is utterly forlorn by the absence of their owner regardless! Accustomed to such insanitary inclinations, thriving nonetheless.
Most lost cats in this town are stolen, I'm afraid.
No mere mishap.
No rambling Rosy.
In my youth a lost cat meant one of two things.
Coyote or busy highway.
If you've ever lost your honey you know the fears of what may befall them are pure torture! Not imagined.
For an adult HOUSE cat that's been taken by a houseless person the hell I've witnessed first hand is just unbelievable torment.
.
.
They know the protection four big wooden walls provides and yearn for that safe backyard person.
I found what I now realize was a stolen cat hidden in the woods when I moved here several years ago.
Very beautiful boy foregone.
Fending off raccoons eating from a bag of cat food alone at night left him blind in one eye.
I took him in but he was stolen again a year after we made our acquaintance.
I didn't know that a beautiful outside cat is a coveted item! That his disappearance was a crime to accost.
I assumed he was contentedly rehoming himself with a neighbor.
Several months after he disappeared a homeless person hearing me calling for a cat said she saw a guy dump my missing cat out of a backpack.
I doubted that he could be mine but began to eat my lunch in the place she saw this occur hoping beyond hope she was lucid.
.
.
A week in I saw a cat emerge from the brush.
Wobbly.
My boy was a huge gray longhair.
Regal in his polite manner.
This poor fella half his size.
Short hair.
At a distance I watched and realized even though this cat wasn't mine, he was starving! As I drew closer he turned and looked at me, endeavoring to flee but too weak.
His right eye was closed! We recognized one another though he had changed so much in his appearance! I think he had been shorn and his coat was regrowing.
He had evidently been grieving the entire time and was unable to eat as our separation was that sad! He died the next day in my arms.
As an artist I think sometimes I should write my story and illustrate it to grow genuine loving hearts.
I can't write enough upon this except sadly the person who reads this is often just as terrifying.
.
.
please don't remove my fervent longing for my best friend to be found.
Amen.