Post a picture of your pet!

Poor Yuki. Poor Yuki's people.

She looks like an incredibly good girl.

She's still the same headstrong butthead she's been all along , which makes it all harder, but trying to appreciate every moment we have.

I hear you. I have a cat dealing with chronic renal failure, and when he's gotten his sub-q injections and whatnot he's absolutely his old self. But we know it's just a band-aid.

Appreciate every moment!

I'm late to this but just wanted to agree with everyone who said no about getting a dog if everyone in the house isn't onboard with the idea. It sucks saying no to family but you're most likely avoiding an even sh!ttier situation down the line.

I've fostered 6 puppies/dogs in the past 20 months or so, 3 (!) have come back to the rescue for reasons similar to whats already posted. Its really, really hard not to resent the people who rescued those dogs only to decide they didn't want them. Especially when 2 of the dogs were abandoned in Houston before the hurricane then found malnourished and covered with mange.

Our local SPCA is ALWAYS looking for volunteers though. I think the minimum age is 16-18 (don't quote me on that), the only requirement is a two hour course hosted at the shelter covering the basics of dog handling. Once done you can walk the easiest dogs (they're basically rated by their aggression) with supervision then work your way up to other dogs if you want. Could be worth looking into for the family to get their puppy fix a few times/week. Fair warning though, its really hard not to get attached when you first start.

I was supposed to take a break from fostering but a friend called about a brindle mastiff/mix puppy who was getting passed around Craigslist for about a month. He had severe cherry eye in both eyes but the idiots buying/selling him didn't realize how easy it was to remove. Long story short, the rescue was persistent and finally got him off CL, paid to have the cherry eye removed (half of each eye was blocked...little dude was bumping into walls at night), had him neutered and then handed him off to me. Annnnd, I foster failed. Ha. I'll post pictures of Cannon later.

“Foster-failed”? Is that when you don’t give them back? If so, I would absolutely be a foster-failure

Thanks for all your feedback folks.

The torrent of "don't do its" gave me a bit of an anxiety attack, but the good news is that my wife realized that her plans to go back to school for career#2 re-training don't really work with new dog plans.

So the can has at least been kicked down the road.

Wink_and_the_Gun wrote:

“Foster-failed”? Is that when you don’t give them back? If so, I would absolutely be a foster-failure :)

Lol, yeah...after the first few days I told the rescue he was home and gave them a check for the adoption fee

So while our old cat and new cat are still fighting a lot, adjusting to each other and all that, there has been some progress:





How do you tell the new from the old? Did you set out to adopt a twin?

Easy, cut them in half and count the rings.

LeapingGnome wrote:

How do you tell the new from the old? Did you set out to adopt a twin? :)

Hah, no. The older one is about twice as large as the younger one, and has a bit of white on his face. Apologize for the blurriness, but this is the best comparison pic we have so far:


they are handsome kitties.

thrawn82 wrote:

they are handsome kitties.



Hahaha yes, my wife sometimes calls Matilda mini-me. Perfect. Thank you!

Whenever I lay on the couch, my dogs feel the need to crowd me. I guess I don't mind

The dogs are my 2 puggles (9yrs old). Bo is the one with his tongue out, Phoebe is cuddled up next to me.


DeThroned wrote:

Whenever I lay on the couch, my dogs feel the need to crowd me.

So, what you're saying is is an issue.

On Sunday, I lost one of my best friends.

Some of you may know that I have two cats, one of whom has been dealing with chronic renal failure. We have had time to come to terms with this.

But Sunday. Sunday my other, seemingly perfectly healthy cat Hige died suddenly. Without warning or sign.

I wrote this for him. It's long and sad and a lot of people probably don't want to see it, so I've spoiled it just in case.


Almost fourteen years ago, we drove all the way from Chicago to Arkansas to say hello.

In the dead of Winter.

In the middle of the night.

We needed a companion for our sweet little Kiba, and found him on the internet. The only cat in the entire universe cute enough to compete with his would-be brother. He was the latter of two boys, Cowboy and Indian. He certainly didn’t keep that name for long.

His brother had already gone to another home.
He was perfect.

We arranged to meet mid-morning in a few days. Which meant we needed to start driving long before the sun came up.

Then we met our beautiful new baby boy face to face for the first time.

A few hundred dollars and an eighteen hour round trip in my wife’s seven year old silver Honda Civic - half of which would be returning with cat in tow - was an absolute bargain. A steal. We brought along a small litter box to keep in the back seat footwell. Boy, did he use it. Of course it was a typical midwest Winter and we had a kitten in the car, so rolling down the windows for fresh air wasn’t really an option, but we survived. We laughed about it. We developed a few new in-jokes along the way.

We arrived at our apartment in the Lincoln Park neighborhood of Chicago. Understandably it took him a while to settle in. He had a very long ride. There was another tiny little cat running around. It was a new space, and scary. But settle in he did. The way a mountain settles into the plains surrounding it. An omnipresence. A landmark.

I could fill vast swathes of pages recounting stories of funny things Hige would do. Funny expressions he would make. And the sounds! Oh, the sounds. He was always happy. He would begin purring as soon as you made eye contact with him. He would sit on the bed as we got ready for work in the morning - sometimes with Kiba, sometimes without - and just knead the bed, purring expertly.

He was the sweetest, most outgoing boy. He was best friends with every person he met. He was going to sit in your lap. He would make eye contact with you from across the room and then, to lure you in, flop right over, squirm around, and show you his belly. He would bat our faces softly with his big, fluffy foot if we weren’t paying attention to him when he required. He would graze around your legs. Sometimes he would try and graze your legs, but miss, and recollect his balance with awkward grace. If you stopped petting him prematurely he might give you a gentle admonishing chomp. Sometimes he would flop and lure you in and then, just to keep you on your toes, he’d give you a loving chew as you reached for his fluff. Some nights he’d practice his singing. He slept between our heads for at least a part of every night. He sat on the arm rest between us on the couch almost any time we sat down to watch TV. If he wasn’t on a lap. Or chest.

He was a cat who loved playing with actual cat toys. His favorites were a stuffed “wasabi and ginger” (his “condiments”) from a cat toy sushi set my wife’s mom bought for him, and a big yellow squash ball.

Like all cats, he had countless nicknames. His two main ones were “Mon,” as in Hige-Monster, and “Pan” because when his hair grew out he would look like he was wearing pants. Sometimes he was a Fluffbutt. Other times a Fuzzbutt. It all depended, see?

Through all the years, all the moves, from city to suburbs, Hige steadfastly remained hale and hearty. He had a problem with respiratory issues, common to Persians, but it was never all that much of a problem. He had a small cyst that needed to be removed, but again, it was fine. He kinda lost his voice a few months ago, but had been to the vet since, and nothing was amiss. It never, ever occurred to me that he would be the one to go first. Especially after Kiba got sick.

Recently, we had been spending more time with them.

For their entire lives, the boys have had one of those big trough-style feeder bowls full of dry prescription food, due to the GI issues Kiba has always endured. But when he was diagnosed with CRF we had to switch him to a prescription wet food.

Obviously we would never dream of feeding only one of the boys wet food, so we found some good food to give to Hige at the same time. At first we were splitting them apart across the room, because Hige was a big nerd and he always had to know what Kiba was eating and if it was the same as his. It wasn’t, of course, and sometimes it contained Kiba’s antibiotics. So there was a bit of a battle to herd the cats. It was hard enough when both of us were home, but when it was just one of us…

Eventually I decided to feed them closer together and just sit on the floor between them. That way I could help out Hige when he shoved all his food to the corner of the bowl and couldn’t get at it easily, and hold the plate for Kiba when he was tired of craning his neck.

I loved doing it. I wish I started sooner. I won’t make that mistake again. It wasn’t a chore in any way. It was what I looked forward to most when I came home from work. It was so much fun seeing their excited faces, hearing Hige’s little croaks and squeaks. Looking into his bright eyes as I tried to get his attention back on his own food, or as he was politely requesting (more) treats. My two boys. My buddies.

Hige died, suddenly, unfairly, and far too early at noon on June 30th, 2019. A day during which, prior to then, I was feeling better than I had in a long time. A part of me wants to say, “Figures.” But it doesn’t. It doesn’t figure, it just f*cking sucks. A half an hour earlier he was sitting on my chest as I laid on the floor, purring and getting scritches. He sneezed in my face, as he was wont to do. An hour before that he was proudly serving in his role as nurse while Kiba had his subcutaneous fluids administered. He was fine! Or seemed fine, maybe, I suppose. One moment he was sleeping on the top of the sofa, basking in what sunlight there was. The next moment he was completely gone.

Just gone. In a single, horrible, traumatizing instant that I know I will never be able to forget.

At least we were all there in the same room, I guess. At least he was in his favorite spot that isn’t a lap… I guess.

We didn’t get our chance to say goodbye to him while he was alive. Certainly not in the way we’d have wanted to. So all we can do is talk, and write out our feelings and share them with those we choose. Go through our photos and videos. Decide which to print. Cry a lot. Focus on the fact that our precious Kiba still needs our help. And remind each other of all the good times we had with our Mon. Our Pan. Our Funny Guy.

My sweet Mon. You made my life so much better than it was before I knew you. You made me so much better than I was before I knew you. You made countless wonderful memories that will forever be cherished, not only for me, but for so many people who were lucky enough to have known you. You were my co-pilot when I played games. You were always there to make me feel better when things became too much. You made me smile and laugh so many, many times. You were a wonderful and patient big brother. Sometimes, you were maybe a bit greedy, though, if I’m honest. But it’s okay, you funny, spoiled boy. We miss you so much already. You were a wonderful friend. I could never have asked for more or better.

I love you so much.

I guess this is goodbye.


Oh god r013nt0 I am so sorry.

That's really rough.

I’m so sorry, r013nt0.

What you wrote, by the way, was beautiful. It expresses what I’ve long thought is one of the most cruel / strange aspects of being someone who chooses to adopt and love cats.

Their lives are substantial and important and yet almost no one outside of your home understands this or why. Thanks for putting this into words. It’s heartbreaking how much they matter and how little anyone understands this. The best you can do is tell the world.

Thank you everyone. It was and remains a horrible and traumatic experience.

And yet I imagine the other ways it could have gone. My wife was actually going to leave for an ART session, but the masseuse called and cancelled.

Then we were going to go grocery shopping, but I was procrastinating and got too involved in Mario Maker 2, so I was not in a hurry to get off the couch.

So I might have been alone when it happened and had to tell her.
Or HE might have been alone when it happened.

So I suppose there's that.

DSGamer wrote:

...It expresses what I’ve long thought is one of the most cruel / strange aspects of being someone who chooses to adopt and love cats.

Their lives are substantial and important and yet almost no one outside of your home understands this or why. Thanks for putting this into words. It’s heartbreaking how much they matter and how little anyone understands this. The best you can do is tell the world.

I agree. Dog people don't deal with this, I don't think.
Some people just don't understand the type of extremely personal relationship you can have with a cat.

As a former dog person, I can tell you, we do deal with this.

Veloxi wrote:

As a former dog person, I can tell you, we do deal with this.

Unreal. Non-pet people are sad.

Yeah, it's the folks who never have had pets that will never get this. In a way I envy them for that.

r013nt0 wrote:

On Sunday, I lost one of my best friends.

Very sorry to hear this.


Glad I read the spoiler. So sorry.

Thank you both. I appreciate it.

Veloxi wrote:

As a former dog person, I can tell you, we do deal with this.

I think what made that emotion hit hard for me as a cat person was the crushing realization that only a handful of people had even ever met my cats and understood how impactful their lives were. At least in theory.

Either way the interior lives of pet owners is so personal and that makes the loss even greater.

Really, our worlds are defined by the creatures we spend time with. Pets can be as or more important than some people, for us. That falls, for me, in the realm of family, and the loss of a years-long companion can be as hard as losing a friend or even a family member. It's not hidden from the world so much as a closely held part of our lives. The experience in general is common to many - most? - people, but the specifics will be known only to intimates, as befits family.

So sorry to hear about this. We've lost pets over the years; it does not get easier, but the memories and the ones still with us make it bearable.

I'm so sorry. And I always post this, because I can never read it without tearing up...

The Power of the Dog - Rudyard Kipling

It says dog but... it applies to any pet.