I loved my cat. Had her since I was 6 or so, and I'm 18 now.
She was an inside cat for a long time, but my parents decided they didn't want to have her inside any more because she apparently sprayed, but I never saw her do it smelled it. She seemed to be okay with it though. She got to run around outside wherever she wanted, and this kept her in shape. She was catching birds right up until the end.
She loved me and I loved her. When I was riding the bus to school, she'd follow me down the street every morning and sit there with me, rubbing against me and just letting me pet her. After I'd go, she'd start the walk back. Any time she saw me across the yard, she'd get up and start walking towards me, meowing the whole time (I'd do it back, and I've been told I can do it pretty well because of this), and I'd pick her up and carry her back and sit with her on my lap while she kneaded my belly for a while before she laid down.
She trusted me a lot to. I carried her around on her back like a baby for almost her whole life, and it's supposed to be a big show of trust if a cat will allow itself to be turned upside down. Another show of that trust was when she had her kittens one time. She had like a dozen litters of 5/6, and usually it was either in or near my room. Once, she even crawled into bed and had them behind the bend in my knees while I was laying on my side. Sure, it sounds gross, but she apparently felt safe there, which is amazing to me.
She was still going strong, not looking old or anything, but she died in August of this year. Two dogs snuck up on her while she slept on the porch one night. They mutilated her. I won't go into the details, but just know that there was internal bleeding, organs exposed, and she was alive for about 15 minutes of pain. The owner lets the dogs off the chain at night to roam the neighboorhood. If I see them again, they're not gonna make it home that night.