You cats worry too much.
If God decides to take a fiery poop on this dirtball, ain't jack you can do about it.
If WWIII breaks out and we have to fight nuclear mutant holocaust zombie cannibals, there's nothing you can do about it until the time comes.
If Randall Flagg and Captain Tripps decide to hold hands and skip across the globe, stocking up on Nyquil ain't gonna help.
Preparing for the end of time doesn't do you any good if you get killed in a car wreck on your way home today.
This I have learned from a friend of mine that survived Leukemia, only to find out recently that she now has Lymphoma:
Live everyday like it's your last, that way, if you do find yourself in front of the Pearly Gates with a winged version of Burl Ives asking you if you paid your dues; you can tell him the check is in the mail (thank you, Jack Burton).
When God decides to take you out of this world you're leaving it. Period. No questions asked, no second chances. Gone, baby, gone. So live without regret today and don't worry about tomorrow. People need to learn to be more like dogs sometimes.