In Memory of Mojo

We were so lucky to be your humans.

Mr. Mojo Risin, also known as Mojo, Mojo-opolis Pojo-opolis, Mojo Pojo, Mojo Bear, Mr. Meowzers (and so many more names — a list entirely too long to keep going here), came into my life on February 20, 2007. It was bone-chilling cold and I was on my way to Starbucks to study when I saw him standing on a car in the parking lot outside my apartment. He saw me, started meowing frantically, and ran to me. It was love at first sight and we were together ever since.

The day I found him. <3

That day, I wasn’t prepared to take in a cat, being a broke 22-year-old college student. My leasing manager agreed to waive the fees and pet rent because she couldn’t stand to see him out in the cold. Who knows how long he had been on his own? I scooped him up and took him into my warm apartment, gave him a blanket to sleep on, and grabbed some cash to get supplies. I got him healthy and started fattening him up immediately, and he had been my chonky long boi ever since.

Showing off his beautiful belly.

When I introduced him to the man I would eventually marry, he was not interested. He was the only man in my life! When we finally all moved in together and he realized this random dude wasn’t going anywhere, he started to feel more open about the whole thing, fully embracing him as his dad. Soon enough, my pets weren’t nearly as exciting and his dad’s was the clear favorite. He got snuggles and scritches and pets from me anytime he wanted them, but with his daddy, they were extra special.

When we moved into our house, a new routine began: he followed his daddy around every morning and got pets in my office, he slept until he could get lunchtime pets, and sometimes he’d get some special pets in between lunch and dinner. Then, in our last “bonus year” with Mojo, they started “bedroom pets” — every night before my husband showered, they would sit together on the floor and have an extra long pet session. He even started getting them right before we went to sleep. He’d tuck us in by making my husband pet him before bed.

Looking out the window.

These pet sessions were very special — my husband is allergic, so when he pet Mojo, it had to be done in a certain way to ensure his allergies weren’t set off. And that special way was in the form of “booty pats.” His favorite. He got them in certain areas of the house, and he would walk to those spots and wait, sometimes impatiently, to receive them.

Mojo has been with me for seventeen years. We welcomed my husband into our lives just two years into our relationship, so Mojo has been what completed our family for the last fifteen years. In that time, we’ve lived in three apartments and one house together. He’s been spoiled rotten. Well fed and well pet, our little buddy lived out his golden years with us at home with him all day, every day, thanks to a global pandemic. We are so grateful we got to be with him so much in these last few years. A true perk of having to stay home was that we got to spend extra time with him. He didn’t have to wonder where we were during the workday — he would just leave one of his many beds and find us when he wanted attention. And we happily obliged.

We had this joke, where we would ask each other — “do you think he’s happy?” We’d ask this while he was having a pet session, while he was lying on the ottoman under my window in my office, while he was snuggled in his heated house(s), while he was lying next to us while we were watching TV. We would laugh and always say “yeah, I think he is.” He would usually give us some sign — rolling over, a quick paw flick, or a small meow, to confirm our suspicions.

Distracting me from work was his specialty.

On January 2, we discovered he had lymphoma. Over the next ten days, his condition deteriorated quicker than we could have ever imagined. On his final day, we were by his side, lying with him on the bedroom floor and snuggling him every moment we could. When we came to our very difficult decision, we were with him through his final breath. I sang to him, we told him how much we loved him, and he was no longer in any discomfort.

We will miss his morning meows at the door before our alarm, his howls late at night that echo throughout the house, and his endless affection toward his favorite humans. We will miss the routines, his beautiful blue eyes, and his giant personality. There will never, and could never, be another kitty like Mojo. He showed us the true meaning of unconditional love and was the best little buddy. When he came into my life, I needed him in ways I never imagined. He rescued me.

Mojo, we love you. We will always love you. You taught us so much and there aren’t words for how much we will miss you. Thank you for loving us.

Somewhere, you’re sleeping in the sunshine, just like this. We will never, ever forget you, Mojo.

My sunshine kitty.

In memory of Mojo
July 14, 2006 - January 13, 2024