I had a cat I grew up with. He died on the day of my 18th birthday, at the age of 19. I went for about 5 years without any pets. Then I got one. One turned into three. And then five, but I'm down to 4 again. I lost the one closest to me before he turned one. The other four give me more than enough company but one of them basically has no immune system so it makes for a depressing, yet worthwhile ride.
George Carlin used to call pets "little tragedies waiting to happen."
Here's a story. I rescued baby kitty when he was about 5 days old. Vet thought he would die, but he didn't. I was 23 at the time. He was my bud. Rode in the car with me, went everywhere with me. Like a kid. When I was pregnant with LittleTricker he had to move in with my mom as I had never had toxoplasmosis so was not able to clean a cat box when pregnant. After LT was born, I left him with my mom as Kitty was super old by then and didn't like having a baby around. One day my mom came home and found him super sick. She called me and said she was taking him to the vet, but dind't think he would make it. She said she asked Kitty, "Want to see Mommy?" and he perked up a little.
She stopped by my house and Kitty was still alive, but struggling. I told him to "give mommy a kiss!" and he did and we cuddled. Then my mom drove off towards the vet. She said he stood on the door and looked at me until he couldn't see me any more. Then he walked to her lap, curled up, and had died before she got to the vet.
I've never bonded with a pet as much since then. He was my soulKitty. I miss him to this day.