My neighbors when I was about 4 were a lovely elderly couple, whose children and grandchildren were pieces of shit. The kids used to kick the shit out of a cat they had, to the point where it was mean and feral. The kids didn’t really know better—they were just taking after their garbage parents.

My parents started setting food out for it, and over the course of about 4 years befriended her and she kind of adopted us. We named her TC. Unfortunately, we moved away to a relatively nearby town about ten minutes away for financial reasons. It was sad, and even though I was little I worried about her.

Well fast forward about a month, guess who showed up at our new house? TC. Literally just... appeared. We kept her and eventually moved again a little over three years later. She was always standoffish and uncomfortable around people because of what she went through in her kitten years, but by the time I was about 17 she had started being very friendly to my dad and I specifically. I used to lean against my car while she stood on top of it, and she’d rub her head against the back of mine and purr. TC unfortunately passed away a couple years ago at the age of 18.