When my husband and I still lived in Hollywood, we would take a power walk in a residential area at the bottom of the Hollywood Hills where one day, we met a very friendly white kitty (maybe around 5 years old) whose name tag read "Homer". Homer was so friendly that he would "threaten" to follow us on the remainder of our walk, and, out of concern for his safety, we'd literally (but gently) "throw" him back to his human's garden, which we called "Homer's Enchanted Kingdom". It's been over a year now since we've moved from Hollywood but every now and then I'd think of Homer and miss him.