My cat Lucy turned 15 yesterday. It’s still hard to comprehend that she’s that old because she doesn’t act that old. And if you ask her, she’ll swear up and down that she’s only 9.

I remember picking her out of a litter of one-week old kittens at Vet Pets, a pet store/veterinary clinic, in 2000. I equally remember bringing her home in that hole-y cardboard box when she was five weeks old and how she cried all the way home.

I remember how she got lost when she was three and was gone for two days, the longest two days of my life. But we found her. Apparently, she went up to some strange lady’s door and essentially asked, “I’ve lost my person. Will you be my new person?” Thanks to some lost cat posters all over the neighborhood, the mailman recognized her as the missing cat and she came home to me on Christmas Eve.

Then there was the time she had cancer and it was 50/50 that surgery would get all of the tumor. I cried and prayed and even lit one of those prayer candles like they have in Roman Catholic churches for her. She got better. She’s still 100% cancer-free.

I hope she lives to be 30. That would be great. There’s a part of me that wishes that she’d at least outlive me. But realistically, I know that’s not possible. I know there will be a day when I’ll have to say a final goodbye to my little furry baby (and also to a little piece of my heart). I can’t focus on that but I can cherish every day I get to spend with her.

The same goes to the rest of those I love. I’m not guaranteed a tomorrow. Neither are they. That’s why I can only be thankful for each day that I get to spend with each one of them.

Don’t ever take the ones you love for granted. Don’t ever go to bed angry with a friend or a family member. You never know that you will get the chance in the morning to make it right. Always say the words “I love you” whenever you get the chance. Always.