The first day we met you were 2 years old. I’ll never forget that first day home. I thought you had ran out the front door because I couldn’t find you. So, I sat on the couch to watch t.v. praying that you were just hiding somewhere in the apartment.

It took all of 5 minutes for you to come out from under the couch and sit on my lap. After that moment I knew that you were more special to me than any pet I’ve had before. I was your person and you were my Tank. My 17lbs of grey and white fluff that used every bit of your large frame to get my attention every way possible.

You were my shadow. Literally. There are moments when I’m at my desk working on something and I expect you to put your paws on my chair wanting to be held. I hold the bathroom door open waiting for you to walk in. I leave my bedroom door ajar so you can come in when I go to bed. Those moments are the hardest.

I miss your very vocal meows letting the whole house know that you are not getting your way. I miss the sound of your purrs when you’re sleeping in my arms. But mostly I miss knowing that you’re waiting for me to come home.

For 18 years I was your momma. For 18 years you were my best friend. For 18 years you were my biggest fan. For 18 years I got to experience God’s love through you. Thank you Jesus for those 18 years.