The first cat my SO and I owned together was called Faggot. The reason was, he came out of the woodshed, covered in twigs, and a faggot is a bundle of sticks or twigs, and also, we tried loads of normal names on him, and that was the only name that got a reaction. So it stuck. As I say, he seemed homeless, and when we consulted the animal shelter, no one had reported him missing, so we said we'd keep him, and they were happy to let us. He was a beautiful cat - tabby, and he looked like at least part Maine coon. He talked to us a lot, and would take us on walks down our lane. We had him from 1992 to 2008, and the vet thought he was about 3 or 4 when we adopted him, so he lived a reasonably long and mostly happy life.
Our second cat was more stressful in the acquisition. He started coming into the house, having worked out how to get through a locked catflap. We didn't feed him at first but he kept hanging around and sleeping under our cars, so we did start feeding him. But it turned out that he belonged to some people down the road, who only fed him in a shed. His name was "Jackie." We tried taking him back down to them but he actually bit my SO one time when he did that, so we stopped, and just carried on treating him as a guest. Eventually, I was worried about his health, so phoned the owners to ask if we could take him to the vet. It turned out that they were just about to move anyway, and said we could have him. He's only been officially ours for about 3 years, and now he is quite old and has liver problems. I don't think he will be with us much longer.
Both Faggot and Jackie were/are lovely affectionate cats. It will be very odd when we no longer have a cat to come home to.