Alice is almost 17 years old. Beth found her under a hedge as a kitten. She wouldn't come out for ages, and then she would hide for days until Beth coaxed her out. For years, she treated me like an inconvenient piece of furniture until one day she decided I was OK. Now the cat will fuss me when I'm fussing her (rubbing her head against my hand, twirling her tail around my fingers when I'm stroking her).
I know cats have the life expectancy they have. It doesn't make it any easier. And I'm being the strong one here: Beth is distraught.
