I didn't adopt Brian; Brian adopted me. I live in Thailand, a country famed for it's sunshine, beaches and laid back lifestyle. It is also one of the street animal capitals of the world. When we moved into our new house, within a few days we noticed a dirty, oil-stained cat living under a car on the street outside our house. It didn't take him long to notice us either, and soon he was coming into our front yard, demanding strokes and love that I simply couldn't give him in his current condition. What followed was a trip to the vets to have him checked over. The vet put him at around 8 years old - pretty good going for a street animal. A few quick tests confirmed that my new friend had feline leukemia that was already quite progressive. He also had an infection in his face from mites in his ears. He was generally in a bad way, and of course being the soft-hearted girl that I am, when we went home that day he no longer stayed outside but was welcomed into my home. Knowing that I live in a country that doesn't allow animals to be put down, I vowed to take care of him until the end. I decided to call him Brian; it suited him. He had the attitude of a grumpy old man (wouldn't you after 8 years living on the streets?) but he loved a snuggle. As time went on, Brian's leukemia progressed more and more. He began to lose weight and lost the sight in one eye. But he kept on giving those snuggles until the very end. Our time together may have been brief but I am happy to have made his final year a happy, comfortable love-filled one.