That reminds me when my ex Luke first met Milan and Lennybruce. They were adorable and little, and about 6 months old at the time. I was cooing and fawning over them ridiculously, and he said, "Somebody nice, what are you gonna do when they...when they go to kittyheaven?"
I was dumbfounded. I tried to explain to him that the fact that these little boys will likely not outlive me is no reason to avoid getting attached. I mean, can you imagine living a life trying not to "get too attached" just to try and avoid pain later? I can't. My little dudes make me so god-damned happy, as do most people's pets, I would imagine. As I type this, Milan and Lenny are digging through their mile-high kittytoybox that I knitted and felted for them, and getting all high on several of their approximately nine million catnip toys. It is hella cute. Milan just sneezed from violently huffing a pouch that is stamped "100% PURE CATNIP" and made to look like a miniature 20-kilo bag of kittyhash in a burlap sack or something.