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So my aunt broke her ankle about 4 months ago and I took over the care of her two elderly cats, approximately 14 and 17. Well, the 17 year old has started to take that downhill ski slope to the Pearly Gates finish line, and as my aunt is now 80% rehabilitated I'll be bringing little Benjamin back to her on Friday. I'm realizing I've developed a bit of an emotional attachment to the little guy and am getting teary-eyed even writing this post.
Benjamin[^]
(The link is to my blog)
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That's rough and my condolences. Take heart in the fact you gave him a great home when he needed it and made him comfortable and happy at the end.
![Rose | [Rose]](https://codeproject.freetls.fastly.net/script/Forums/Images/rose.gif)
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That'll be a wrench - they worm their way into your life remarkably well.
Good looking cat, but 17 isn't necessarily the end of the world - indoor cats can reach that with relative ease, and we had an indoor/outdoor cat when I was young that lived to 28 or so; she was still rat, squirrel, and dog hunting until a month or so before she passed. Survived dog fights, rat fights, car fights, falls, and stupidity all ok, but got killed by cancers caused by fallout from Chernobyl.
"I have no idea what I did, but I'm taking full credit for it." - ThisOldTony
AntiTwitter: @DalekDave is now a follower!
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They do quickly become a part of your life.
They call me different but the truth is they're all the same!
JaxCoder.com
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He looks at home and very aristocratic (which you are too of course, CodeProject aristocracy) 
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My wife joined my life about 11 years ago with two cats and a dog. We've since added another dog, lost the first, and added 1 cat and two horses (both OTTB ex-race horses aged 6 and 7 who will live up to their 30s most likely). All rescues. No kids, mind you, as I had that earlier with my daughter who is now off in college.
Of the two cats that my wife brought into my life, they were a mother and son. The son was so attached to my wife that there was no chance I would fit in edgewise. But the mother and I found a good spot together. She's 22 now, and outlived her son (who passed away earlier this year at 20).
I affectionately refer to her as the zombie cat because we can't exactly define the supernatural power that keeps her hanging on, but she knows where the food, water and litter box are located, and gets plenty of affection. She sleeps 23 out of 24 hours a day, is mostly deaf and certainly senile, and I have to admit that my reaching down to pet her each morning is mostly making sure she has made it through the night. But wife and I have both agreed that as long as she still does everything and responds to affection with a purr, then we will refrain from taking her to see the vet.
There is nothing like the love I have for my kid, but the love I have for any of the animals that have wriggled their way into my life is a very close second. I completely understand what you are up against...we welcome them into our lives, knowing full well that we will outlive them and end up saying goodbye much too soon. But don't let that stop you! If you have the room in your heart and home, go down to your local shelter and make a new friend.
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My orange tabby, Caesar, hit 16 earlier in the year. He's still going strong. A little gimpy, but, that's been a long term thing for him. He was a bit overweight for a while...
The one that nearly broke me was last year when we lost his sister, Cleopatra, to melanoma. (Black cats are more susceptible to that particular cancer, having more melanocytes.)
They do worm their way in.
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He even looks a bit like my old cat.
I had plenty of people think he wasn't particularly friendly because that cat didn't just let anyone approach him and give him a belly rub. I must've been "in the club", because I swear that cat loved the s**t out of me. In the summer, I'd sit down on the front porch and he'd never jump on anyone's lap but mine.
Even though he's been gone for maybe 8 years now, I don't want another cat, because (s)he would have a lot to live up to. And I'm fine with that.
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Going to give mine some chicken now.
Bastard Programmer from Hell 
If you can't read my code, try converting it here[^]
"If you just follow the bacon Eddy, wherever it leads you, then you won't have to think about politics." -- Some Bell.
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That sucks 
I remember when Siepie died, the house wasn't the same after that.
When I came home at night I never went straight to bed, I always went into the living room to pet her.
After she died I kept going into the living room only to find it empty.
Broke my heart every time, but it was such a habit after all those years.
My condolences.
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When I was walking my first dog, a man approached, begging me to let him pet my dog: He had just lost his own, his best friend of many years, and was dying to get a new puppy, but the breeder couldn't provide one for another few weeks. So, please, let me pet your dog a little, won't you?
So, when my first dog was getting old, to avoid such a period of emptiness, we got a new puppy while he was still alive. And boy, did he get alive! He fell in love with the little one at first sight, and lived for another three and a half years ... The two were "best buddies" throughout, like you never saw before (even though both were males).
During those years, our family broke up, and I was left alone with the dogs. At age almost 12 years (that is a lot for a large St.Bernhard!) the old one said goodbye. And the following day, the young one simply refused to walk past the place where the old had been laying when he closed his eyes; I had to use strong force to drag the young one by. We had our 45 min walk, and when we got home, the young one laid down. Wouldn't raise up. He never did. So I lost both my dogs within 24 hours.
Then I sat down thinking: I can't possibly spend more than four hours per day giving a dog active attention, like walking or petting him. Twenty hours a day, he will be left to himself, all alone. Those hours, the two had been together, having each other to interact with. The young one understood that now he would be completely left to himself twenty hours a day.
If I get myself a new dog, can I defend any such thing? No. Certainly not as long as I am living alone. During the first years with the old one, he probably didn't get much more than four hours a day of active attention, but there was family life around him: People talking, singing, making food, moving in and out, ... Whenever we had a meal, he would come to lie down by the table (even though he knew well that he would get nothing). He was present in family life sixteen hours a day.
So, unless I get a new family (which is not likely to happen), I cannot take the responsibility for giving a dog 20+ hours a day of loneliness.
I sort of understand the young one. His social life would be like sitting in a prison cell, only being let out for short breath of air at long intervals. I do not have a dog now. I miss it, but I can't make myself doing this to a dog.
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I'm glad your aunt is recovering. My condolences on Benjamin. It doesn't take long to form an attachment to those little critters.
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That almost tossed up into a total confusion. My Chinese friends call it "A-P-P" & Not "App".
And on the call I thought they are talking about "A.P.I" but realized it's App! when they started talking about UI on the "API" hehe. 
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Nand32 wrote: My Chinese friends call it "A-P-P"
Makes perfect sense really, we all know it's just short for A-p-p-lication 
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You need A.P.P?
sure, go ahead, bathrooms over there.
wash your hands after.
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That's bad?
Wait until you listen to my client, calling "A.P.I", and "API" (aa-pee). I was worried about the project details for a while. 
The sh*t I complain about
It's like there ain't a cloud in the sky and it's raining out - Eminem
~! Firewall !~
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I once got a customer who called Crystal Reports Crystal Clear[^]
And then there was the client who said "baarcode" instead of barcode.
Or the guy who "bould" his software instead of build.
And I have a friend who calls a database a databoss (or databaas in Dutch).
My Canadian uncle pronounces app as aap, but that might just be a Canadian accent
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Like "Whose blood is this?" and "Where did you get it?"...
Ba-tish!
Anything that is unrelated to elephants is irrelephant
Anonymous
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The problem with quotes on the internet is that you can never tell if they're genuine
Winston Churchill, 1944
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Never argue with a fool. Onlookers may not be able to tell the difference.
Mark Twain
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Fred bled to death. The ambulance crew could have saved him if only they'd known what blood type he was. But he was optimistic and thinking of others to the end; he just kept repeating "Be positive! Be positive!" ...
IGMC. 
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Tip: At a bar down near the docks, some guys bragging that 'semen well paid these days.'
So if you got nothing on then it's something to else to try.
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lopatir wrote: At a bar down near the docks, some guys bragging that 'semen well paid these days.'
So if you got nothing on then it's something to else to try.
Whatever he does with other guys in the back of a seedy bar is his own business, and I don't wanna know how much he gets paid for it.
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