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When I was about seven years old, my mom surprised me by coming to my elementary school with a kitten. She was so small. She had come from the same veterinary hospital where we had gotten another kitten. My mom had named her Stacey.

When I was hurt emotionally either by my parents or someone at school, and I was crying in my room, Stacey would come to me and meow like she was telling me it was okay, and she would let me hold her as I cried. As I cried into her fur, she would purr.

As I got older, I became what everyone said was suicidal, but when I held Stacey, she didn't care about how different I was. She knew exactly when I would get home from the moment I got off of my bus and walked through my front door. Even when we moved from the only home she had ever known, she stayed connected with me.

When she was 15 years old, she had become very sick. During the last few months of her life, I noticed that her health was taking a downward turn. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn't going to make it through this time.

Every time I came home from work and went to my room, she would struggle to get up and meow softly. She would eat a little but not much. Than the day came when I took her to our vet. They told me that she had a mass in her abdominal area and that it would take thousands of dollars just for them to find out what it was. I made the decision to put her to sleep.

She was my best friend, and in a way, Stacey was the one who rescued me. I had her cremated so she will always be with me. No cat could ever replace my best friend.

Story submitted by Whitney from Bonney Lake, Washington.

This story was originally shared on The Animal Rescue Site. Share your very own rescue story here!