When I was younger, my sister and I would spend our summers in Michigan with family. One year my aunt came home with a kitten. My uncle only agreed to let her keep him if he got to choose the name—so that’s how Angus came to live with us for the summer.

He and I bonded immediately. He loved me, and he especially loved my long hair. He’d sleep in it, chew on it, and drool in it all night long, probably because it reminded him of his momma kitty. When summer ended, I called my mom begging to bring him home, but she said no. I cried, said goodbye, and we started the drive back. Not long down the road, my mom called again and said I could bring him home—so we turned around, packed him up, and he rode with us the whole ten hours back.

We stayed together for the next 16 years. My grandma used to say his little white nose made him look like a lifeguard with sunscreen on. As a kitten, he had these hilariously long, lanky legs and would lie down with them splayed out behind him until he finally grew into them. After that, his favorite position was lying on his back so I could rub his belly. He was a total catnip connoisseur, too. It was pretty much the only treat he ever cared about.

Because of when he came into my life, he ended up staying by my side through eight different addresses. He—and for much of that journey, Cecil—were the anchors of my life during so many moves. I honestly don’t know how I would’ve gotten through it all without them.