Pumpkin was a huntress. Gophers, rats, hummingbirds, and most especially mourning doves were her speciality. Like most cats, she would leave what remained of her kill at the patio door - narrowly missed early in the morning as I stepped out to fill the breakfast bowls. As she aged and suburbanization encroached on our garden, hunting was only a sport. A form of entertainment.
I'll miss Pumpkin. She liked me and every dog that she trained. As a kitten she would nap on the woolly back of one of our Great Pyrenees. Another Pyrenees was her best butt sniffer. She even charmed a couple of English Mastiffs. She would prefer to avoid a fight; but when backed into a corner by a stray she could hold her own.
The garden gnomes referred to Pumpkin as "the Devil Cat"; but I called her "Doo Doos". She was sweet and as soft as dandelion down. She was a good cat. I will miss her. I already do.