This is a story from a couple decades ago. I was 16, hopeless, and living in an abusive home. One day I was home alone after school, with the only other creature in the house being Pebbles, my family's jerk of a cat. She was nasty, liked hiding under things and leaping out to claw and bite passing ankles. She hissed, she attacked if you were in her path. She was a mean cat, and she preferred not to be around people.

Well, normally having the house to myself was when I was happiest (just stay out of Pebbles' way and you were fine), but I'd had a really bad day at school, already felt overwhelmed, and got home to find that my father had sold my games. I couldn't handle knowing that my parents were going to be back in a few hours, and I no longer had the things that brought me comfort and escape. I wanted to end my own life.

Ultimately, I couldn't do it and curled up on the floor and just shook and cried. And during that time Pebbles came out of hiding and curled up with me, and just sat with me. It was the first time she'd ever interacted with me without attacking. She helped me calm down.

After that, Pebs was always nice to me. It was like a switch was flipped, and suddenly she'd come sit beside me on the couch and accept me petting her. She lived for only one more year before old age took her, but I loved my time with her that last year.

That unexpected kindness from her really helped me out that year.