Dorian was always a kind, curious, and enthusiastic cat. He was deemed my “sous chef”, because he always had to have a helping paw in whatever I did in the kitchen. He loved sitting on his chair and observing, occasionally getting treated to bits of chicken and other things while I worked.
One of my favourite memories of Dorian was when he got up on Nathan’s desk and enthusiastically attempted to swipe a freshly made donut out of Nathan’s hand. Dorian LOVED sweet foods (pastries, ice cream, frosting, soy milk, oatmeal — you name it, he wanted it), more than any other cat I ever met. He had a keen ear for the freezer and silverware drawer — he knew that meant a human was grabbing ice cream, and he would definitely get to lick the spoon afterward. Of course, that didn’t stop him from trying to steal the spoon out of our hands.
Dorian lived a long life of fourteen years, give or take a few months. Raised alongside dogs at the beginning of his life, he was always more dog-like than cat-like. That never stopped him from curling up and cuddling with us, of course. He loved waking us up by combing our hair, purring in our ears, and putting a paw on our noses. He always wanted more fresh kibble, but what he truly wanted was to be snuggled and smothered with love.
Dorian might have been about seven kilos, but his heart was definitely seventeen thousand tonnes. He loved every human he met, always greeted us when we came home, and he had a soul way too big for our humble home.
We love you, buddy. My sous chef. Nathan’s right hand man. You were the coolest, raddest cat I ever got to know, and there will never be another cat like you.