I once had a big, beautiful orange tabby. I got him when I was about 22 years old. He used to ride on my shoulder, paws hanging down my back, while I walked around the house.
I had a miserable pregnancy and he would sleep right next to me during my afternoon nap, under the covers snuggled next to my belly. He knew when I wasn't feeling well and would crawl up on my lap.
He lived for 18 years and it wasn't enough. I had him cremated and he sits on top of my jewelry box, the only one of my pets I couldn't bear to bury, in case we ever move.
He was the great love of my life, petwise. It still hurts now, two years on.
But, there's another orange tabby sitting at my feet right now. He's a bit sassy, but he's become quite the little love bug. I hope he stays with me for a long time.
Pets are people, too.