One morning my friend Jackie told me she found a nearly dying Persian under a garbage container. The poor thing couldn't walk anymore; his hair was tangled, dirty, and full of dry strings. She drove him to the vet and found out he was very old, and had a cardiac and kidney problem. My home belongs to my cats and my dogs. Jackie asked me to foster him for a while. We already had 7 cats and my husband was giving me the cold shoulder... still, we took the poor thing in and named him Dali because of his mustache. But Dali needed a lot of care, cleaning his eyes, brushing his fur, taking his treatment and following a special diet. And my husband was asking regularly, when will Dali will get his own family? Dali got better and my husband was seduced. Dali became the king of the house. My husband, first thing coming from work, was asking where his friend Dali was. Dali stayed with us almost four years. He crossed the bridge peacefully in our house early on August 28th last year. The vet told us he was easily 20, even older. He was such a trusty, loving cat, our little king. We miss him every day.