I was feeding a stray cat by house for many years (around 8). For the last few months, I noticed he had a wound on his side. He has had these before and they always seemed to heal fine but this one was lingering. He was hard to approach, wouldn't really let me pet him or get too close to him. I actually got antibiotics from a vet and I gave him those and the wound look like it was improving. Last week before I was leaving for the shore, he was on my deck and looked really hot, even panting. Well, I grabbed him with a towel and set up a place in my basement - i figured he at least was out of the heat. He was eating fine and he drank water that day. My son fed him and gave him water everyday and he seemed fine, the wound looked better. My plan was to finally try to get him to the vet when I got home in 5 days. Well, the day before i returned, my son called my hysterical (my son is 21 years old) and told my that our cat "Dickie" had died. Well, now I am wracked with guilt that I didn't do more for him or try harder - I even think I should have tried to bring him in years ago but I already had 5 cats in my house and he never seemed like he wanted to be inside. He lived in my garage for the most part - he would go in through a small window. I can't stop beating myself up that I should have done more to help him