*sigh*
Sadly found this thread through the lolcat thread, but thought I'd share my tear-jerker cat story.
So I was probably 11 or 12 at the time, helping my dad bottle a few batches of wine (more specifically a Cuvee Franc) in Morro Bay, CA, when this little ball of fluff comes wandering under the back yard gate and starts meowing his scruffy head off. Nonetheless, I (being the cunning pre-adolescent I was) convinced my dad to let us keep aforementioned ball of fluff and raise it as our own.
Thus, in light of the day's events, he was named...
Frank.
Through a messy divorce, 5 moves between 4 different states, and his endless supply of miscellaneous birds/small mammals he would deposit on our back door each night, Frank was, quite possibly, the world's greatest cat. He would love a ton, because not only was he loved a ton, but he weighed a ton. If memory serves me right (sorry Iron Chef...), he tipped in at a whopping 17 pounds at his heaviest. But it never slowed the scruff-monster down. (
Edit: he was a Norwegian forest cat, and they're both massively fluffy and generally weigh 13-15 lbs. It wasn't that we over-fed him...)
Long-story-long, I got a call back in August from my dad saying that, at his guesstimated age of 17, Frank had to be put down because of a tumor that had formed in his esophagus which prevented him from eating. Normally I'm not an emotional guy. I didn't cry at my grandma's funeral for god's sake. But after getting home from work, I cracked a beer, lit a smoke and sobbed a few for my long-lost bud.
I raise another glass to the greatest cat in the world.
