My cat died on Sunday, June 6. His name was Gizmo, and his nicknames were, but were not limited to, Gizzy, Mo, The Pirat (because he would sit up on my shoulder and would let me walk around with him there.), Sqeakin, and Daddy Cat, because he was the father of five of my other cats (Bobby and Shadow from one litter, and Alex, Cloud and Bunny from the other.)
He was born in 2004, on my mom’s birthday, and he was taken on the sixth anniversary of my grandmother’s death. Because of these, my mom believes that my grandma either took Gizmo on this last Sunday, or that Gizmo was actually my grandma.
No matter who Gizmo was, he was one of the most amazing cats in the world, and he will be missed dearly. I love you Gizmo.

Edit: So.. My mom, myself, and one of her closest friends, Mary, feel that Gizmo was probably the (virgo) feline reincarnation of my grandma. If you believe in reincarnation, then you may already know that six years is the usual interval between human incarnations, and this was the six year anniversary of her death on Sunday. He was born 90 days after she died, and was born on my mom's birthday, which, of course, my grandma knew. We think that she was ready to move onto her new human incarnation, and because of this, Gizmo had to move on, too. This is why he was perfectly fine in the morning, a little off in the afternoon, and had just.... disappeared by the evening.
Gizmo's strong need to be independent, the constant need to wander around outdoors, the fact that he was our only blonde cat, his manners, his intelligence, and the enjoyment that he got out of being a pain in the ass were all things that matched hand in hand (hand in paw?) with my grandma.