In third grade, I was given the privilege of choosing which cat to adopt at the local animal shelter. Naturally, I chose the kitten who was biting his siblings’ tails. Arnold would be his name, a name which was found in the directory of employees at my mom’s company. Unfortunately, due to illness which seemed to worsen after the death of our other cat, Arnold passed away recently. He was always quite the character, and I believed when I was younger that I was the only one who really had a connection with the animal.¬†Temperamental, feisty, energetic, and daring, he was the best little ball of fuzz.

When he was a kitten, I remember trying to teach him to nod and shake his head when I asked him questions. This plan was quite unsuccessful, but nonetheless he kept me occupied as a little, only child. When he escaped from my house accidentally, I spent the next day in my fifth grade classroom crying, fearing I had lost the love of my life. He survived, after squeezing underneath our porch and revealing himself when my mother shook a can of cat food. As a little kid, I would put poor Arnold into my doll’s stroller and drag him around the house.

To put it simply, Arnold provided a sort of companionship that no human could give.

And while this is not a post about food, it should be known that Arnold, in his last few weeks of life, was enjoying the sophisticated diet of lobster and Chobani yogurt.

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