Two of our 3 beloved kitties are over 10 years old and beginning to show it--arthritis, especially--and I dread the day when we'll be without them. No matter how many times I've been through it, it gets no easier. My mantra has become that my old cat Pyewackett lived to 17 and so may these two, with luck and care. And then I look into the huge blue eyes of our third, youngest cat, Widdershins (whose exact age we'll never know because he was picked up by the police in a neighboring town, filthy, starving and missing a left front leg) and I realize that there are so many others like him out there that desperately need homes.... It's a small but profound comfort to me to at least know that each loss will lead to a new commitment and new love. And I believe we'll be reunited with them in The Summerland, too, which helps tremendously.