Splotch, aka Moby

We lost one of our cats a few days ago. He was fine the night before, eating, washing the face of his sister, playing with his catnip sock. In the morning we found him in the living room, dead, no sign of a struggle or illness. He was only 8, but a very large (over weight) cat. We miss him so. It doesn't seem fair that our companion animals live only a fraction of our lifespans. Taking one into your home and being bound with heartstrings to them is only setting yourself up for the day when they are gone. And yet we do it over and over again. In 35 years we've had 13 cats, 4 of which we still have, some of them living well into their teens. It still grieves me, and the ones you love the best seem to be the fastest to go. We had a Siamese that loved to play fetch with crumpled paper, bringing it back to you to be thrown again and again. If you ignored her when she brought it back, she would pick it up off the floor and lay it in your lap. If you still ignored her she would put it on your chest. If that didn't succeed, she would climb up on you and very gently take your chin in her teeth and hold on, sort of saying, I know I shouldn't bite, but could you PLEASE throw the paper? So funny....I miss them all.