Last year my cat Biggy got hit by a car and his leg was badly injured, and he had to get metal pins put into it to set it and a cast on it so he couldn't hurt it again. We bought a dog cage to keep him in so his leg would take less time to heal since he wasn't walking about. He cried and cried and cried in that cage and we could only take him out of it if he was going to be sitting on our knees, and when we did he was so happy he would purr and he would dribble which was gross but no one minded because he was happy. He had to use a litter tray, which was a burden to us because it smelled and no one enjoyed cleaning it but we knew we had to. Whenever I had friends over they would make fun of his cast on his leg and make grossed out noises whenever he went to the toilet and get annoyed with his constant meowing, and I had to explain that it wasn't his fault while pretending to be annoyed too.
He got better about a month later, and even though he walked with a limp he was such a happy fat cat. It was a few months later that we were sitting in the living room and we noticed we hadn't seen Biggy in a day or two (he would frequently stay out overnight so we weren't too worried) and we went out with a bowl of cat food and walked around the streets shaking it because he would normally come running, but he didn't. A few days later I went out by myself to look for him and walked into the fields that we live near because he would sometimes play in them for days. When I couldn't find him I sat down and wept for at least half an hour. Every noise I heard I thought it was the bell on his collar and whenever I saw a dark shape in the field I would run to it, only to be greeted by a plant or a bin bag.
We made posters to post around my neighbourhood, and put one on the bus stop I got for school, and every day when I got home I would be greeted by the face of Biggy with his big green cast on staring at me blankly from the photograph.
We never saw him again.