Cheetah is the sole survivor of the five animals who lived with my grandparents when I moved here in 2003.
One by one, the other cats made their way to the great hunt hereafter, and in the last two weeks we've lost two dogs (Scotty was deaf, nearly blind, and suffering from pretty bad arthritis; Blessing had a tumor removed over the summer, and they found more on her leg, lung, and spleen before they put her down.)
Even Cheetah, the proud warrior, was in pretty rough shape a few weeks ago (dehydrated and not very mobile); we're still not entirely sure what from. He bounced back, though, and when I see him out hunting again I'm quite reassured that he's got a bit more to do before he reaches the clearing at the end of the path.
Gopher (another Border Collie who arrived just a few years ago) is as healthy as you'd expect a pup of his age to be, but Grandma says she can tell that "he misses his friends." He's not the only one.