My tribute to Miss Tasha Okamoto, RIP

Americans love their pets, or "companion animals." And I'm among the group possessing "companion animals," who help get me through good and bad days.

I have two cats: a 14-year-old long-haired tuxedo and gigantic 7-year-old  tan tabby. I had a papillion, but she died at 16. So It's me and los gatos against the world. Priscilla's shy, so don't worry about her. But Diego, who weighs in at a whopping 20.9 lbs. (the vet said he isn't overweight) gets into everything.  I call him mi changuito (little monkey), and when he's really bad, I call him "demonio." Aiy, dios mio.

I don't know what I would have done without my cats the last couple of years. They've brought me so much comfort, even when Diego is running on top of the kitchen cabinets and eating all my plants.

And we, as humans, know that. It's unconditional love when there's a critter doing a little dance or jumping around when we get home from work or errands. We know there is a little guy who wants to spend time with us, cuddle with, bring us comfort.

But when you adopt an animal -- even if it's a baby -- you can't help thinking that one day in the not-so-distant-future, you're little guy will be gone;  they don't live that long. But we find happiness and love in the time we do have with them.

I recently received some very sad news from a friend in Delaware who told me she had to put her 12-year-old Mastiff down. This dog was so lovable. My friend would bring her to work and she'd just pretty much lay there until food was broken out. I once tried to walk her and it was like walking a horse! And I didn't care if she drooled on me. She gave my friend so much comfort when my friend lost her beloved Rottie while already dealing with so much. Tasha was a sweetheart, and she'll be missed terribly. May she rest in peace.