My Pussy Cat Kneads Me (Revisited)

Some animals manage to live with us longer than others. I had two cats born of the same litter; a gray male and a black female. The female was fixed, the male was not. Both cats were free to roam at will outside. The black one always returned. We were never quite sure the exact day that the gray one didn't return.
They turned out to be exceptionally friendly. Sometimes, I think, they turned out to be kindhearted. The black one, Madison, craved to be in our company. She would lick us and she would purr while she'd be massaging our thighs. Try to get a bf to do that to you!
The male cat was tolerant of us. He would stick around pets and scratches. If he were otherwise off guard or tired, he would allow himself to sit on our lap or rest on our belly. The strangest thing he had ever done was the day he decided to shadow us during a daily walk of the dog. He just tagged along to see what the activity was/looked like. This was pretty bold of him considering there were other people who might be walking their dogs at the same time.
She died the day I left for San Juan for a seminar. My housemate of the time buried her (just the body without a box or bag). In less than a day, she was unearthed and her remains were eaten by some form of wildlife (probably a racoon).
I miss her. I miss her more than I miss the dog. His last days will be for another day.
It's been years and I have yet to replace either of them. I like to travel and I don't want to be one of those people who brings the dog along everywhere I go. America is not set up for service cats.