| My cats are 17 and 15 years old. All they do now is move around the house to find new places to sleep, and bug me when they need to be fed, which seems like every goddamn 15 minutes. They know if they whine in their high pitched cat meows I'll give in and just get them food.
The older one is fatter than Blaezenfury and has lip cancer. Her lips bleeds all the time and she rubs it with her paws which are now permently blood-stained. She still has quality of life, so she is still chillin' around here.
The younger one is the alpha cat, and it always picks on the older one. It's favorite thing to do is hide and wait for the old fat one to walk by and then claw it's hind legs. It's also elitest; it refuses to drink water from anywhere except a certain bathroom tap, but it's too old to jump up to the sink so it sits there and meows until someone (me) lifts it up and turns the tap on for it. It refuses to use a litter box like the other one, instead it just uses the dirty clothes on the floor of my room as it's own bathroom. Grabbing a shirt from the floor and throwing it on only to realize it's covered in cat unire is one of the worst feelings.
That's my gay cat story. I still love them. |