I believe that's why Chester's story so strongly affects everyone who hears it. He beat every obstical, made it past every dark day, shone bright in the midst of doubt and despair. He creates hope in all of us.
He also shows us that in the darkest times, with the greatest of losses, there is still something to fight for, something to keep us going day after day.
It's also probably why it is so hard to not spoil our pets in the grandest manor. They deserve it, don't they? They're little fluffy balls of mischievous miracles, telling us that everything will be fine in the end.
Chester is no exception. There is no limit to his spoils, but there also doesn't seem to be any limit to his love and his inspiration.
He visited the vet for the first time since the foot debocle, and no one could recognize him. Not even me. He spent the whole time roaming around the room, cuddling with me, sleeping lazily in the chair, completely self assured and unthreatened. He has never seen anything in those rooms but the underside of their chairs before. I was dumbfounded. No one could believe who he was when they read his chart. There were so many "ooohhhhhhh!!! He's THAT cat!" (He's still plenty famous.) he's still doing just fine, we're just trying to find out the best possible care for his high maintenance digestive system. Anytime anything slightly weird pops up, I of course freak out and assume the worst. But there is no longer any problems and all he needs is special food to keep his bladder and intestines healthy. We're just trying to get the right mixture. Everything else is in top shape, and the food issue is just me being obsessive an trying to keep him alive for 30 more years.