He was big. He was red. He was our cat.
He gave great tail-hugs, twining it around your leg like a vine, especially, let it be noted, at dinner time. His purr was like a bus rumbling by and could be heard through walls. His green eyes glowed like he was lit from within. My brother called Chester the most charismatic cat he'd ever met, and he wasn't alone in that assessment.
He died today at the ripe old age of 15. We'll miss him terribly.
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