At seventeen-and-a-half, he survived not just pneumonia but pneumothorax. He'd stopped eating, and only the correct flavor of Berber baby food (beef) smeared on his lips got him eating again. He bounced right back. Nearly a year ago he went into arrest during a check-up, and the vet called us over to say goodbye. We arrived to find him standing and scolding the whole room, ready to jump down from the table.
The vet said to us, and I quote, "You're gonna have to take a two-by-four to him." 
He was diagnosed with renal failure three years ago, and has been getting subcutaneous fluids a few times a week for support. Right up until the day before he died, he was still doing his tomcat patrols (though he tired easily from the anemia) and eating like a pig.
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