Anyone who knows me knows I love animals; you can just look at my facebook page and get it. The reason I love them so much is because I see all of the love, emotion, and strength that live inside them and I feel like so often those things are overlooked. Animals aren’t selfish or unfeeling. Our pets don’t care what mistakes we've made, or what we have. They don't care who we are, what we've done, or where we've been. They love us unconditionally; we are their whole world. My cat Thomas was my world.

I have two solid memories from before he came. One was watching the Disney movie “Thomasina” about a beloved pet cat who is believed to be dead but is nursed back to health and returns. The second is the day my parents told me we were adopting a kitten and we decided to name him Thomas after the cat in the movie. The next memory I have is the day we brought him home. We got him from a woman who said he was a stray living on the streets with his mother. When his mother died this woman took him in. She called him Stinky because when he used the litter box it stunk up the whole house. He was shy at first, and he had the widest, most beautiful green eyes, and his ears were too big for his body. We carried him home in a canvas bag. On the train ride home my mom let him pop his little head out and he was giving her Eskimo kisses. Our dog Princess didn't like him at first but they grew to love each other. I remember he was inactive for a while after she died. I remember he loved to not only sleep in the potted plants but he used them as a litter box. Every time my dad caught him doing that he’d yell “THOMAS!” and Thomas would go shooting off running all over the house at the speed of light. He loved to be scratched behind his ears and under his chin. I remember I once spent an hour just petting him until he fell asleep. He slept at the bottom of my parents' bed. Whenever I slept in their bed I had to curl up so he wouldn't grab at my feet.

My mom said when he wanted to be fed in the morning he would knock over her jewelry and press the buttons on the phone until she got up. We lived in an apartment in New York City when we first got him. You couldn't open a window because he’d go out and lie down on the ledge and we’d have to coax him back in with food, I think he liked the feeling of the wind. He loved to jump up and sleep on top of the cabinets, high above everyone else. He was his happiest when we moved into a house with a huge backyard. He hated the act of moving. I remember his face looking mad as s**t from being stuck in the car.

But when we got to the new house he began exploring, having little adventures up and down the street, through all the wooded area. That was the best part about us moving. Even when we missed the city, we all just loved that he was so happy. He became the king of the street. He knew the whole area better than anyone, and he was so smart that every time he saw a car coming he sped off into the bushes to avoid it. He loved to splay out under the trees, sleep in the sun on the couch on the porch. He’d chase the squirrels and they’d laugh at him because he couldn’t climb trees. He made little connections with deer that would come to nuzzle him before he tried to put his paw on their faces and they ran off. When we got a dog trainer for our puppy who took over the house, he would come over and snuggle with all of us because he knew it would make her jealous and because she wasn't taking all of the attention from him. I remember once when I was crying, he came up to me and nuzzled my face until I smiled. He was beautiful and sweet and everything.

I got Thomas when I was 3 years old. And no matter what, every time I came home he was there. Lying on the kitchen counter, sprawled out in the sun coming in through the window, trotting through the grass, sitting on the porch waiting for a little scratch on the head or to be let inside. I am almost 21 now. He was a constant in my life for 18 years, and he was as much a member of my family as my father, mother, or sister.

This time when I came home from school, my dad told me he was gone. That he just went out like he does every morning and didn’t come back, and sometimes old cats do that. My mom said he was acting different that morning, making sure she was following him when he was meowing to be let out. Like he knew that day was different. He knew the neighborhood better than anyone, and he was always safe about cars. He always came back. My parents said that sometimes cats go off and tuck themselves away when they know they're going to die. I can’t even stand the thought of him hiding himself away while his heart gave out and I wasn't there.

I haven’t processed it at all. I forget about it because it just doesn't feel real. I keep expecting to see him trotting up the porch like he does every single day. I keep expecting to see him asleep on the couch. I keep expecting to hear him clawing at the door. I keep getting the urge to stand up and let him in and lift him up onto the counter to feed him. And I can't stand the thought that I’ll never again get to see him pitter-pattering alongside me while I walk my dogs.

I’ll never get to have him brush himself against my legs when I get out of my car. I’ll never get to have him crawl into my lap all slow like he did. I’ll never get to see him carrying a roll of toilet paper while meowing before dropping it in the middle of the kitchen floor. I’ll never get to have him jump up and step all over my keyboard demanding to be pet when I’m on the computer. I'll never get to see him snuggled under the Christmas tree. I’ll never get to have him butt his head against mine before giving me a kiss on the forehead like he never failed to do. I’ll never get to have him climb up behind me on the couch and paw at my hair. I’ll never get to give him a kiss when I see him curled up on the couch before I go to bed. I’ll never get to hold him while he gives me eskimo kisses.

Those are moments I’ll never have again. And I just hope that he knows how much those moments meant to me. He wasn’t just a cat. No animal is “just a” anything. He was my family, and I am better for having him spend his life with me. When my mom put up signs asking if anyone had seen him her co-workers looked at the pictures of him and said that the way he looked at you was incredible. He had such feeling in his eyes, you could see the being there. I could always tell when a cat was him. He was like no one else and I loved him with everything I had. No matter what I endured, no matter where I went, he was always there. And I keep hoping that it’s like “Thomasina;” that he’s not actually dead and he’ll come back to me like the cat in the movie.

People always talk about how important it is to let the people in your life know how much you care about them. Make sure your pets know too. Pets don’t want anything more than for you to be there, because they're there. That’s what love is; being there. So treasure them.

To all of the pets out there. The ones we have, and the ones we’ve lost. To the mice, rats, and fish I had growing up, to my dogs Princess, Ophelia, and Ty who I have lost, to my dogs Ursula and Callie and my kitten Myfanwy who I have now, and to my little king Thomas, thank you for being there. Wherever you are Thomas I hope that you're warm and happy. I will love you forever.