She took him to the vet and had the eye enucleated. I wanted to name him Popeye, but my wife would not allow it. He was dubbed Albert. In the cold, he had a hard time deciding if he would come inside, but he would relent if the temperature dipped below freezing.
At first, I put up with the feline. Over time though, Albert grew on me, and he seemed to favor me over all others. He would hop in my lap when I sat in the porch swing, purr and slobber out the right side of his mouth. In the warmth of sunshine, he would roll, and he loved a tummy scratching. He protected his territory from other tomcats, and he became a fixture on our porch.
About two weeks ago, Albert turned up missing. It has been cold out, and he has disappeared. At first, I thought one of the ladies of the neighborhood had taken him in, as tomcats often have several sources of support. After checking, I learned that was not the case.
He has not returned home. I have not found him despite searching. I only hope he did not get into another cat fight and become blinded. Godspeed Big Al.