Shandi is sleeping beside me at the computer, just like when she was young and I still lived at home. Sigh, she's gotten so old and stiff. She's 14, which is very old for a pure bred golden retriever -- the last of her siblings died three years ago. But up until this year she was very young for her age, now she's stone deaf and limping from arthritis.
I cuddled Sam, who is 17 but still spry, the last cat of my childhood, and I managed to pick up Satan without being bitten. I had forgotten how small a cat she is. She's the youngest but she's still not very young, 12 or 13.
I have to hug them all lots, because I don't know if they'll be around when I come home next year.