Today I lost a family member. Aristo (the Hebrew name for Aristotle), the beloved cat I adopted in 2004 and stayed at my parents' house after I left, passed away.
He was a good cat. He was a strange cat. He was a beloved cat. He was huge, and he was smart - he knew how to open all the doors in the house. He had a tail way too long for his measurements. And he was cute as hell.
I hurt him when I moved out of my parents' home and couldn't afford to take him with me, and he never truly forgave me for that, but over the years we established some sort of a new equilibrium in our relationship.
He never met my cats, Rushmore and Alexa, and I'm not sure he would have approved of them, but he did love Cleo, his cat-sister at my parents' home.
I loved him, I still love him, and I'll miss him dearly. Because no matter what, he was my first cat. And he will forever be loved. I'm grateful for knowing him and for him being a part of my life.
Aristo, be well, wherever you are.
