Orange cat being held by his owner and friend.

When I was in high school, my family was gifted a small talkative orange kitten from our uncle who lived in Southern Oregon. We fell in love and named him Scot, after our favorite Timbers player of the time. Scot chose me as his preferred human and became beloved for his lovable demeanor and silly antics, including greeting us meowing at the door when we arrived home, hiding in our recycling bin, laying on the floor on his back, and falling asleep while being carried in our sweatshirt and jacket pockets.

After I moved out after college, I took Scot with me, and after I came out as trans, I became estranged from my family. Despite all the difficulties that this time presented, Scot stuck with me through it all, being his lovable self the entire time. No matter how unloved or alienated or sad I was as I navigated the early days of my transition without family support, Scot loved me just as much and in just the same way as he did before. To him, I was still me and he still loved me, and that meant the world to me.

As he grew older, I met my partner and she embraced him as her own, learning his quirks of demanding cheek rubs and sniffing at people's breath and quickly endearing herself to him. We became a small family together, which was a gift that was beyond my wildest dreams when I had first come out.

Scot was a living reminder of my childhood and a perfect example of unconditional love in the face of changing and difficult times. I will always miss him and love him.