They even make their pets fat. So a few years back, a fat neighbour of mine asked me "Hey, you want a cat?" I already had two of my own at this point, so I was about to say no, but I decided to ask some questions.  After getting answers, I found out that his cat was 23lbs (overweight by at least 13lbs), 10 years old, barely mobile, and with lots of health issues.  He told me that if nobody wanted the cat, he would just leave it at a shelter. Well, I was mad at this point, so I said that yes, I would take his cat.  The next day, I went over there and met Herman.  Herman was such an affectionate guy, that I knew I'd made the right decision.  I asked my neighbour what the vet said about Herman.  He mentioned that his blood sugar was too high, and Herman only had a few more months to live. I then asked my neighbour what Herman's diet was like, and he replied with "oh, whatever.  I leave a bunch of dry food for him, but he always begs for whatever I'm having".  "And what is that?", I asked.  "Oh, you know, the good stuff.  Herman loves pizza."  Fucking hell, fatty.  A cat shouldn't be eating pizza.  Never mind that they're lactose intolerant.  It's just not good for them. So, I took Herman home.  I put him in the spare room with a new litter box, a bowl of fresh water, and some of his kibble.  I slowly introduced wet food (which Herman took a liking to right away) to his diet, and started reducing his kibble intake.  After a few weeks, Herman was out of the spare room, and interacting with my kitties.  They all took a liking to eachother rather quickly.  On the first day that Herman was out all night, all three slept on the bed with me in a little cuddle puddle.  It was cute! Herman started slimming down quite noticably, and became much more active.  He would run up and down the stairs, jump up on the couch (from behind! ...he couldn't do it from the front at first), and keep up with my other two, much younger, cats.  At this point, a year had gone by (a few more months to live, my ass), and Herman was healthier and happier than I imagine he'd ever been. Fast forward a few more years.  Herman was 18 now.  He was still pretty spry, but you could tell he was slowing down.  He wasn't quite as quick up and down the stairs as he used to be, and no longer jumped up on the couch from the back.  A few weeks after that, I noticed that Herman was slowing down even more.  He was barely moving around, and wasn't eating much.  I took him to the vet, and feared the worst... and it wasn't good.  Herman had liver failure. The vet told me that, unfortunately, because of Herman's earlier obesity, he was much more prone to develop something like this, even though he'd been at a healthy weight for so many years since then.  The vet told me that, short of a lot of costly and painful procedures, which might extend his life a few more months, but not the quality of it, the best thing to do was to put Herman down. So I scheduled an appointment for the next morning, and took Herman home with me for the last time.  That night, he cuddled up to me, and was the little spoon the whole time.  I cuddled him back, and petted him as much as his broken little body would allow.  The next morning, I took Herman in to the vet.  We walked into a room where they had a blanket ready for him.  I held him, and petted him as the vet injected the drugs.  I kept petting him, and holding on to him, until his little heart had stopped beating.  Herman was gone. It's been a year to the day, since.  I'm just happy that I got Herman away from my fatty neighbour.  I'm happy Herman got to live much longer than he otherwise would have.  I still miss Herman, though. TL;DR: Fatty was going to put down his obese, soon-to-be-dead cat.  I took the kitty in, and gave him eight more years.