Jaws lived where I work. I work at Animal Services, and he was a cat that was brought in in 2015 (before I even started working there!) that had been hit by a car, and, where his namesake comes from, with a broken jaw. He was originally meant to be what we call a TNR -- trap, neuter, release... But he grew on the staff and lived in our quarantine room-- which was later fitted with a cat door so he (and later Q-room cats, like Boris) could come and go as he pleased. Unfortunately, though he was very sweet and well-mannered, he had issues that prevented him from going into adoption-- one being Feline Leukemia Virus, and the other being herpes (which gave him a near-constant state of the sniffles and later on, eye damage).
I had the privilege of knowing and adoring this cat for nearly a year in my time working at the shelter, but at his age and with his illnesses... He was bound to go, even if he was one hell of a fighter. He'd fall deathly ill and the next week pull through like nothing happened. This time, well, it only got worse and worse. He had to be put to sleep on the second.
I already deathly miss him and his laughably aggressive cuddles.
You'll notice his name tag says "Sasha". That's the name of my beloved cat, who also lived at the shelter and passed away due to complications of FeLV as well. The director didn't buy Jaws his own tag because she knew he wouldn't be around much longer... We didn't realize Sasha wouldn't, either. She was frisky and playful, and downright sassy. She loved getting into everyone's business-- and running across parking lots when she knew she's in trouble. She loved when I would bundle her up in my jacket and carry her with me as I worked.