Such depressing sh*t. Pluto was rescued as a stray kitten. He was horribly sick then, but his will to live pushed him through and he became a quirky faced (once we got him clean we saw he had a dapper mustache) gray and white, tabby.
Once he got outside without us noticing and we shut the door. He jumped at the window, flailing around like "You traitors! How dare you do this to me!" It was quite funny really.
As he got older we noticed he seemed to forget where he was and would race around wildly in a panic. He also took pleasure in making Sara upset and tormenting her by stealing her spot on the couch. In addition to these more benign insults he would physically harass her and they would get into fights.
Pluto got horribly sick, lost weight at a rapid pace, refused all food and drink. We think he may have had cancer as well. Ironically he left our life how he entered it.
I got Sara as a kitten from a friend of my mother's. A blonde kitty with white feet and tummy, very very faint stripes and a pink nose with spots. She already had the name "Sara", but when my dad found out she adored donuts, he dubbed her "Sara Lee" and the name stuck.
She was a pudgy cat, very sweet and loved cuddles. The problem was she would drool profusely when she was happy. She also stuck her ears out to the sides when you pet her head and her elbows turned out slightly. Quite a sweety. After Pluto died, she became sick as well.
They were both very old, each about 20 years old.
Sorry guys, but I had to type it out, even if no one reads it.