This week 
I adopted Kosh from the street when he was kitten. I was pretty young too - only 19 at the time - but he was a kind of catalyst (get it? cat-a-lyst?) for me to leave my mother's home; one of the smartest decisions I ever made.
Kosh was one of the most loving pets anyone could have. He would always greet me with a Meow-meow that sounded like a "hello", and would always come looking for cuddles and fuzzles (fuzzle - the action of petting / squishing / spanking / scratching a cat according to cat's preference). He was also one of the only cats I knew who really really really loved having their bellies rubbed. He would start purring and flip onto his back like a dog and never stop you. Ever. He'd just doze off then woke when you stopped.
Many cats are the kings of "if I fits I sits"...
... But Kosh took it to new extremes:
Kosh never scratched or bit, unless he was being taken to the vet or the fuzzling stopped before he was done. This attention loving monster would literally claw your hand back onto his belly. I have videos (somewhere).
Among his many talents, he had the ability to jump onto door handles to open doors to rooms. He once managed to lock me out of our apartment by somehow jumping on the latch (don't even ask).
Kosh was a fan of human food. If we had it? He wanted it. Having cat food within reach at all times did not help as the little terrorist would flip over garbage bins, steal chocolate from my drawer and even drop whole pans of food onto the floor from the stove.
Taking selfies with cats is hard, but I still have the last photo of us together on my phone. I look a bit sad, as though I know it's the last time. You can probably also see how skinny Kosh looks here compared to his past photos as a chubby devil.
I will always miss you, my fluffy purring ginger terrorist.