Tank's story for us began when he came into our lives on January 16th, 2011 as one of 2 pussycats that we adopted from the Lahaska SPCA. He was a gray and black striped tabby who the SPCA estimated to be ~5 years old which was good since we were looking for an older cat to adopt. Initially, Tank was our "just grab one and let's go" pussycat which was my reply to Vicki after he hissed at her as she was picking him as the second of the 2 cats we were adopting that day. Little did we realize then that the "grab one and let's go" really meant that from that moment forward Tank grabbed our hearts and has never let go since.

The SPCA told us that they thought Tank was someone's pet who had either gotten out by accident and couldn't get back home or worse yet had been put out intentionally. In either case it was apparent that he had some degree of a "separation anxiety issue" and was constantly on the lookout for the return of his mama or staff when they were gone. This was true throughout his entire life with us although we did our best to minimize his anxieties about this.

It was eminently clear that things in our household had changed dramatically and would never be the same again when, within an hour after bringing both cats home, Tank was out of his carrier in an upstairs bedroom, found the new litter box, and had explored every room in the house while looking for din-din. This was the earliest indication that a new pecking order had been established wherein Vicki and I now assumed the critical roles of his staff, roles that we relished playing for him until the very end.

Tank was a real people pussycat and bonded with Vicki immediately even though she was still working at the time. He would watch for her car to return from his perches on his kitchen chair or the dining room window ledge and immediately run to the garage door to meet her. He escorted her safely inside which is a relative term as he was in and around her feet with every step. Nonetheless, he purred up a storm and once they were inside Tank accompanied her into the bedroom where he closely supervised her change of clothes to ensure her safety. If Vicki got up during the night for any reason Tank immediately got up too and joined her wherever she was including in the bathroom! Tank's concept of privacy was non-existent since he would push open the bathroom door with sufficient force that one could sustain a concussion if you weren't careful. Satisfied with another job well done he then sauntered over to the window ledge, hopped up and promptly sat down to survey part of his kingdom but not before opening the curtains as wide as possible so they didn't hinder his view.
This same bathroom window ledge was where we often found Tank sitting patiently and waiting for our return regardless of how long we had been gone. This was particularly poignant at night when our headlights would be reflected in his eyes long before we reached the end of the driveway and the garage. Once we opened the garage door into the house Tank was waiting for us with an almost look of relief that we had returned whereupon he would promptly fall down and roll over waiting for his belly rubs accompanied by much loud purring after which he followed us from room to room as we unloaded groceries or anything else. He was "Mr. Helpful Extraordinaire".
When we infrequently traveled south we always arranged for pet sitters to come multiple times daily for at least an hour at each visit for Tank and Little Bit (the CH is silent although she is not). Once we returned Tank was present and closely supervised each item as it was unloaded from the car and then accompanied it into the house. He repeated this process until the car was unloaded but occasionally, his timing would falter and he would be inside while were outside or vice versa which was cause for near panic on his part until he was reunited with his staff, especially his mama. He had the stop, drop and roll sequence down to a science especially as part of his welcome home greeting and assisting with unloading the car. This was invariably accomplished with no advance notice, preferably behind you or just about where you were going to step. Try as we might you couldn't be at all angry with the fur-ball because he just looked so happy to have his staff back with him again.

For the first few weeks we tried keeping our bedroom door closed which was a mistake from the get-go. Tank would get his paw under the door and try to pull it open without realizing that it opened in not out. The result was a near constant banging as he repositioned his paw continually. He then tried scratching the bottom door panels which was more effective still since we relented and opened the bedroom door both to get some rest but also to save the door panels. Once we were fully educated in Tank's approach to sleeping arrangements all was well. He simply commandeered a large portion of the bed and went to sleep. Apparently he dreams in some capacity given the cacophony of small sounds that he made in addition to his snoring either of which could be sufficiently loud to awaken me -- Vicki not so much.

Tank joined us not merely as a family member but, more, as he saw it, in a much needed supervisory capacity in all manner of activities of daily living like folding laundry, meal preparation, yard work, and making the bed where his assistance was always required for successful completion of the task, albeit in a substantially longer time and accompanied with much purring, territorial declarations, unusual and often hilarious cat positions together with miles of smiles from us. Meal preparation was always an eventful occasion with a very large pussycat stretched out on either of his kitchen safe rugs in front of the sink or the refrigerator. This required multiple contortions similar to a somewhat demented game of twister in order to open the refrigerator, secure vegis for a salad and then try to wash them before actually preparing the salad or the rest of any meal. Once Tank tired of this amusing display from his staff he ambled over to and hopped up onto a large red Ore-Ida potato box that we found at a local Sam's Club many years ago.

The significance of the Ore-Ida box is not to be underestimated since he knew that his all-time favorite treat would appear from his mama momentarily. The identity of this treat was established about a year after we got Tank when Vicki offered him a small taste of sliced deli honey ham which he enjoyed immensely from that time forward. He had a remarkably discriminating taste among various brands and for the last several years any trips to a BJ's always included his favorite -- a portion of thinly sliced, almost shaved deli honey ham. It was interesting to see the expressions on the deli counter employees once they learned who this particular ham was for although we have encountered a couple of definite cat owners who didn't bat an eyelash as they were cutting his treat. I should point out that we have never seen another of these boxes since but I digress. As he got older and somewhat larger the top of this sturdy cardboard box began to bow. We explained to him repeatedly that if this box collapsed we could not replace it but he was unconcerned since one of his other important safe boxes and treat sources had been replaced multiple times after shopping trips to Sam's Club, BJ's, and Aldi's.

Shortly after we got Tank, or rather after Tank assumed control of his kingdom, he and I reached an impasse regarding Vicki, the kitchen table and newspapers. For background it is important to know that if you needed to find Tank just look for Vicki and he was somewhere close by. For example, she very much enjoyed reading the paper at the kitchen table but this became more difficult and yet ever more amusing with a large squirming fur-ball in her lap. Now cut to the crossword puzzle and things became far more entertaining. No matter how hard she tried to fill in a word, Tank would immediately render assistance which consisted of either gnawing on the end of the pen or pencil or swatting at it with his paw until he launched it, usually in my general direction.
Our impasse during these events stemmed from my 2-foot rule at the kitchen table which meant that when he sat in Vicki's lap he could have 2 paws on the table at any one time. My interpretation was the 2 front paws followed by a couple of inches of legs. However, Tank's interpretation was 2 paws on the same side of his body followed by a couple of inches of his tail! We disagreed about this for his entire life but all was not lost for him -- he always managed to get his chin scratched during these impasses which was accompanied by loud purring and a smug self-satisfied look that he knew he was king, and of course, he was absolutely correct. I suppose I should have been grateful that he didn't interpret this as 2 opposing paws!

On those nights when Vicki had trouble sleeping Tank would get in her lap after she covered it with one of his soft blankets and he would promptly roll over and go to sleep content that "all was well." This was also the accepted pattern when Vicki watched TV, particularly in her lounge chair where Tank could stretch out his full length on his blankie, get his required tummy rubs and promptly fall asleep sometimes accomplishing the same thing for Vicki's legs and feet -- made standing up and walking almost a contact sport as Vicki had to relearn putting one foot in front of the other with little to no feeling but a large, ever present pussycat ambling in between her legs.

In 2013 we discovered that he had uveitis and anisocoria in his left eye where the left pupil was larger than the right one. Our vet recommended a veterinary ophthalmologist to determine the best treatment options. Sadly, this necessitated a minimum 2+ hour round trip car ride followed by some interminable wait times for our scheduled appointment. After his first appointment to evaluate him he was so upset when we got home that Vicki had to cradle him in a blanket for a long time before he began to relax at all. Every subsequent trip to the eye hospital had a lasting and very negative impact on him. After nearly 15 months of these trips every few weeks we asked our local vet to care for Tank which he did for the next 8 years. Since he needed to have eye-drops 2-3X/day, these early hospital treatment experiences rendered this to be very difficult but a necessary thing for the rest of his life.
One small benefit initially was that he always got multiple crunchy treats after every treatment. Too, when we came back from a trip to the vet Vicki would open the door of his cage and the right rear door of the car to give him an unimpeded exit pathway. Tank, however, chose to leap over the back of the front seat into my lap and promptly walk across me as I was opening both my door and the garage door. He ran to the inside garage door while literally hopping from one side to other until Vicki arrived to unlock the door. At that point the pussycat raced through the house to his waiting food bowls and our emotional eater devoured crackers and wet food as though he was starving -- he was not!
In fact at one of our vet appointments a new vet commented about his weight, which tipped the scales at slightly more than 18lbs, and strongly suggested that Tank be placed on a 250 Cal/day diet. She wasn't particularly impressed when we pointed out that he likely consumed 250 Cal/day in treats alone so this could be problematic at best. There were no further discussions of his calorie intake at any future vet appointments -- chalk up another one. Pussycat 1 Humans 0.

However, Tank discovered that he could use the eye drops to his advantage. Over the years we set aside numerous rugs and boxes known as Tank's "safe areas" where no one was allowed to disturb him for eye drops. This was also well known to the pet sitters who cared for him when we infrequently traveled. It was both entertaining and downright hilarious watching Vicki trying to catch him for eye drops as he maneuvered among his multiple safe areas to avoid her and the dreaded eye drop. Over the years he developed glaucoma and a cataract in his left eye which rendered him blind in that eye but in no way impeded his ability to navigate among the safe areas while delaying the eye drops for as long as possible. This pussycat was one crafty old coot even with only one eye.
Tank could not, actually would not is far more accurate, get into a chair or the couch from the front; either a leap from the side into your lap or more recently, a vault from the back of the chair or couch onto the area just behind your neck all of which would have been really helpful if he gave some sort of advance notice or warning like "Incoming!!!"

Among his many safe areas Tank's favorite was a large box with 4 flat corners where we could place one or more treats on each corner. He discovered that if he sat in this box he would be rewarded with at least 4 treats and often more. Since this box was in the hall directly opposite the powder room it became a game where he would get in this box expectantly waiting until I came out of the bathroom. After a while my trip to the bathroom was no longer a prerequisite for treats and Tank would amble over to the box and look up at me waiting for his reward, for what I'm not sure, but it seemed to made perfect sense to him. We repeated this behavior as often as he wanted and on Tank's last day I put down treats repeatedly for him. Sadly he never got to enjoy his last set and his favorite treat box still has treats on each corner as it sits empty and silent patiently awaiting the return of its owner and its subsequent migration across the floor as a large pussycat vigorously attacked each corner in succession.

Although possessed of selective hearing Tank had uncannily acute hearing when necessary. For example, opening a bag of dry food or crackers as we called them, anywhere in the house at any time would magically produce a pussycat at your feet or between your legs anxiously awaiting his latest calorie installment. We fed him in ¼ cup installments and he was usually eating his crackers out of the cup before you could add them to his food bowl. One critical requisite for the crackers was that they had to be placed in a mound which he then attacked with great relish. This was also true for his wet food which meant that Vicki would recast it into an ever smaller mound multiple times before he finished eating. Why, we have no idea but it worked for him.
Probably the best examples of Tank's remarkably selective hearing occurred repeatedly early almost every morning. Once we were up and dressed Tank would hop up on the end of the bed and hunker down to wait to get 4-6 of his favorite pre-breakfast crunchy treats. By this time Vicki was getting ready to go down cellar to get the suet cakes and bird feeders for the multitude of feathered reptiles that she feeds. It was not uncommon during any early morning treat session for Tank's ears to perk up as soon as he heard Vicki hit the basement light switch and take her first step on the basement stairs. On numerous occasions he literally stopped in mid-chew whereupon he would leap from the bed with all 4 feet motoring before he hit the ground. He exited the bedroom as a blinding black and gray furry streak and most often beat Vicki down the stairs, him descending on the left side of course. The reason for this behavior was that it allowed Tank to accompany every step Vicki took while she spread bird seed and put out the suet cakes and feeders. Once his supervisory capacity was over he ambled back inside awaiting the 2nd course of breakfast.
In the interim, I was left frankly looking goofy with one or more treats still left to feed him. Not to fear though, the treats didn't go to waste -- any leftovers were left on the end of the bed and consumed at some point during the day so all was well in the land of cat.

Another truly remarkable Tank and Tank alone behavior concerned his bathroom habits. It seemed that he could only go to the bathroom indoors and would come inside and wait for me to finish cleaning the litter boxes (we had 2) and add new litter after which he then immediately used a box followed by a very self-satisfied look. I'm guessing this was probably more from relief than anything else! Heading down the basement stairs meant that we descended on the right side, and only the right side of the stairs, since Tank was flying down the left side and always the left side of the stairs. This completely reversed when coming upstairs since Tank now occupied the right side of the stairs as he bounded up 2 or 3 stairs at a time. A quick right turn at the top of the stairs brought him to his favorite treat box which always resulted in multiple treats for a job well done, presumably another successful descent/ascent with no injuries to report.

One truly remarkable feature about Tank was that he was a quick study and remembered what he learned. Two quick examples. Early on we had 2 sets of French doors leading to our deck each with a sliding screen door. Tank discovered that if he stood on his hind feet, pressed his front paws onto the screen and leaned to his left the screen would magically open. Occasionally, he had to repeat this process once or twice more but he never failed to open the screen door enough to be free. Remarkably, he never learned that the door could be closed by reversing the process and leaning to the right when he was back inside. I quickly learned that was what his staff was for and he never hesitated to point out how much time he saved me by not having to get up and let him out -- couldn't really argue this point so I didn't.
However, after some years we replaced the French doors with a sliding glass door/screen arrangement that did not yield to his best efforts. Not deterred at all, Tank turned his efforts to the screen door leading into the garage. This was even easier for him since all he needed to do was stand up and lean against the door and it would open. It was interesting to sit at the kitchen table and hear that door open and close several times before it was open wide enough and long enough for him to make his escape. In this case I didn't need to close the door after him -- only ensure that the garage door was open to the outside.

Tank rediscovered the joys of fresh water after we had any rainfall that was sufficient to leave standing water on the deck. It didn't matter how many times a day we changed his multiple water bowls upstairs and down nothing could compete with fresh rainwater, save the delicate bouquet of pine resin that he found so delightful when drinking from the Christmas tree stand and which occasionally significantly shortened the "lifespan" of a freshly cut tree.
Once outside he would carefully move from one deck board to the next sampling the various bouquets that the boards had to offer. His excitement was only heightened once he realized that a small plastic table near the window collected an even larger volume to sample but this now required that he mount the table to complete his task. Once here Tank discovered he was at near eye level with the bedroom window sill that opened out to the deck but was saddened that he couldn't really see into the bedroom because of the window tint.
However, he was ecstatic when Vicki opened the window and talked to him through the screen. The culmination of these adventures occurred once Vicki removed the screen whereupon Tank discovered a brand new and remarkably convenient egress from his water sampling directly into the bedroom and his anticipated treats for another successful exploration with no serious losses unless one counted the ever dwindling but seemingly inexhaustible supplies of his favorite crunchy treats!

During the pandemic Vicki took Zoom yoga classes and would do the practice in an upstairs bedroom with the door closed. Tank would miss his Mama and upon hearing voices and seeing a closed door he scurried up the steps to push the door open and join the fun. He was particularly attracted to the yoga mat's rough texture and immediately took his position in the middle of the mat expecting to be petted and rubbed. Vicki would move off the mat or take advantage of a forward fold to rub his tummy. Since the prime spot on the mat was his, Vicki's downward Dog pose often found her gazing at an upward facing cat. Her tree balancing pose was shaky at best since he felt the one supporting leg was a great place to rub. Tank usually tired of the yoga class after disrupting multiple poses and would then move to the windows to watch birds and finally to take up a spot on the bed to recover from his extended exercise supervision with a well-deserved nap.

On many occasions when I went out on to the deck to call Tank he would be sitting on the landing 4 steps below the deck peering up at me with an inquisitive look as if he was waiting for an invitation to come in. His hesitation was measured in femtoseconds since it was imperative that I opened the screen door before the hurtling fur-ball arrived, otherwise the screen, aluminum frame and probably the door itself would have been much worse for wear.
On the other hand as often as not I would go to all 3 open sides of the deck calling him with no apparent success and as I turned to tell Vicki Tank would always be sitting in front of the screen door patiently awaiting on me to open the door. His look was one like "really, what are you doing over there, I'm over here and the door is not opening." How this pussycat could magically appear behind me was and still is a mystery to me.

Tank loved to assist and supervise Vicki with any type of yardwork except if it involved one of the noisy lawnmowers. After rolling around on the sidewalk or driveway, he would find a nice shady spot from which he could supervise. If he felt Vicki was capable of acting alone, he would get in his favorite spot under the Arborvitae tree and take a nap. However, there were certain activities that required a more active supervision such as leaf raking and shrubbery trimming. He particularly liked to jump on the tarp or hide under it as she added leaves and because it had a drawstring he could hold onto that as she would move the tarp.
The long handled pruner cord was another hot item for Tank. Just as Vicki would position the pruner over a limb and reach for the cord, Tank would roll up in the cord negating any effort by her to pull the cord and finish the pruning. Once again our Mr. Helpful!

Tank could be fearless when he chose to be which caused his parents to have panic attacks over his antics on the deck. It was not unusual for him to hop up on the railing of the 2nd floor deck and walk around the railing jumping the gap for the stairs. On occasions, we would see him standing on his hind legs against the house eyeing a possible jump; Vicki would run outside and grab him for some inside time. He also found he could hop on the barbeque grill and jump onto the chimney ledge with an eye toward hopping on the roof. Another occasion when Vicki retrieved the pussycat for mandatory inside time.
During work on the deck where boards were removed, Tank found that he could see the roof of the shed under the deck. The parents looked out to see a tail and furry hind end with half a cat already passing through the gap. This required an immediate response from one or both of us since we couldn't imagine trying to explain this stuck pussycat to the fire department.
Tank never did master tree climbing unless the tree was on at least a 30 degree angle since he was significantly gravity challenged, a polite way of saying he was a little, actually a lot, bottom heavy. He would run up to a tree and jump at the trunk about 3 feet up then bounce off where he would casually stretch up the trunk as far as he could reach to sharpen his claws. It was always interesting to watch him run down-hill since his hind legs invariably and constantly tried to pass the front end at some point. Gravity and mass seemed to work against his best efforts at the time, but he never stopped trying. A prelude to any serious movement from the pussycat was preceded by his right rear leg raised up about level with his eyes while he and it decided which direction was in order for their next great adventure.

Every evening before bed time was not only the most entertaining but the most endearing of all of our times with Tank. To begin with was the early recognition by the staff, namely me, that a soft towel or blankie was absolutely required across the foot of the bed for the large pussycat -- this was true for almost 11 1/2 years. For openers any and all trips that I made to the master bedroom at any time of the day or night were accompanied by a pussycat on a treat expedition but especially so at bedtime.
Right before going to sleep Tank would hop up on his soft blankie and await his bedtime treats. He got 7 or 8 crunchy treats every night although the routine to get them changed. Some nights I would toss them individually in his general direction and was always amazed at how fast he found them, ate them and then crouched down in attack mode waiting the next innocent victim. Other nights his treats were placed just under the edge of his blankie but well within his view after which there were some frustrating moments in the life of the pussycat as he pawed the edge of the blankie only to watch the treat move under it even further. After a few unsuccessful efforts I always peeled back the blankie for him which resulted in the instantaneous demise of another treat.
Some of the most endearing moments came using Vicki as a prop although she was never really consulted about her participation beforehand. Since she always reads for some time before going to sleep I discovered that she became so absorbed in her book that she didn't realize that I placed a treat on her ankle or on her calf. Tank however, was quick to assess the situation and SURPRISE either gently retrieved his treat with a swipe of his paw OR he just got down and ate it directly which required several attempts with his head turned at amazing angles for his tongue and teeth to retrieve it whereupon Vicki became the proud recipient of a partial kitty bath.
Over the years we swore that he could count since giving him 4 or 5 resulted in a most dour looking pussycat who didn't move until the missing treats were supplied plus 1 or 2 extra for the considerable inconvenience after which he curled up near the foot of the bed on my side and was an extraordinary foot warmer in the winter for which I was eternally grateful.
Tank slept with us every night which always began with a monumental bath once he settled in behind Vicki's knees. At this point he adopted his "Jabba the Puds" pose and proceeded to wash every square inch of his considerable girth. These events were rarely finished in less than 30 minutes and often stretched into an hour. There were a number of nights where one or both of us dropped off to sleep gently rocked by the constant motion from these remarkable bathing episodes. Once complete Tank curled up behind Vicki's knees but that was rarely where he finished the night.
Most nights he migrated north towards the head of the bed and once he was comfortably ensconced between us and behind our backs he stretched out with his back nestled against Vicki and all 4 paws pushing against me. Most nights we each wound up clinging to about 12" on the edge of the mattress while the pussycat blissfully occupied the center and then some of the queen size bed. This arrangement worked well for Tank, for us, not so much but we would not have changed it for anything.
He was our alarm clock -- at around 6AM each morning, rain or shine, work or not, weekday or weekend, holiday of otherwise, he would march into the bedroom and announce that he was here, first with a loud series of meows followed by the thud of a 17 -- 18 lb fur-ball landing somewhere on the bed after a running start and leap. This was all to alert us to his immediate need in that he was in search of breakfast and was unable to pop the top of his Fancy Feast can so staff, let's hop to it, chop, chop, to which we dutifully and unfailingly gladly complied.

Some of the most endearing aspects of Tank's character were the remarkable expressions that crossed his face. He would almost smile when he was pleased, especially when this meant treats or, even more importantly, tummy rubs from the mama followed by an extended nap. However, he had a very cross or dour expression which I experienced several times either from shorting him with bedtime treats intentionally or otherwise, or during multiple re-explanations of the 2-foot rule as applied to Vicki's lap, the kitchen table, the paper, and crossword puzzles.
Whenever we were gone for any length of time he always met us at the door with a look of seeming relief that we had returned to him which was especially poignant when we were out at night since the first thing we saw coming up the driveway was the reflection of our headlights in his eyes from his perch on the master bath window ledge. Any trip to the vet gave rise to an especially aggravated looking pussycat followed by a near panic attack once we arrived and the cage was opened in the exam room. However, upon returning home Tank was again at ease which was reflected in his expression.
Whenever either one of us got up during the night for any reason Tank would appear shortly thereafter, concerned that his staff was ok. If it was Vicki, once he was convinced that all was well he would hop up into her lap, stretch out and promptly go to sleep. With me he would come over, purr loudly and wait for his customary head scratches. After a few minutes he was satisfied that I was only in temporary distress after which he ambled off and returned to bed next to Vicki and promptly went to sleep. In either case Tank was always ready to ensure that both halves of his staff were ok.
For 11 years and 7 months life with Tank was a never ending highlight reel of joy, laughter, hilarity and most importantly an unconditional love. And for all of that time he trusted us with his life, to keep him safe and protect him from any and all harm. He always knew that no matter how difficult or unpleasant a trip to the vet was that once he was home he was safe, food and treats were immediately forthcoming, and nothing or no one could harm him.
But this all came to an abrupt and tragic end in the span of 3 weeks beginning in early July. Vicki reached to scratch the left side of his chin whereupon he hissed at her and withdrew from her touch -- a first in all the time we were together! We contacted our vet and got a quick appointment the next day which also happened to be the same day that our normal vet for all of Tank's life was literally retiring from his practice. Nonetheless, after he was seen Tank was diagnosed with a bone infection in his lower jaw which began a horrific struggle for Vicki to dose him 2X/day orally with an antibiotic. After 9 doses Tank had had enough and we returned to our vet for an antibiotic shot. We were really concerned about his situation and were able to secure a next day appointment with another practice to get a second opinion and to be sure that we were doing everything that we could for him.
This exam revealed that he had a broken tooth in the rear of his left jaw for which the vet was able to adjust their surgery schedule and schedule Tank for dental surgery within 3 days. Shortly after he was sedated for his surgery the vet called us to say that they wouldn't go forward with the surgery because the dental x-rays showed that much of his lower left jaw was osteosarcoma. The surgery would only make an already very painful condition worse so they suggested we let him go while he was sedated. We said no -- we wanted him home with us to try to make whatever time we had left with him as normal and good for him as we could.

I am so sorry that we couldn't beat this damn cancer but we were helpless to make things better for you. Vicki tried to give you some pain relief over the last 2 weeks but having to give you a liquid orally knowing how much pain you were in was a nightmare for her and for you. Then on the last trip to the vet she applied your pain med transdermally which we thought would be good for you and for Vicki since neither of you would have to struggle with the oral administration. Sadly, we didn't find out about the side effects until you jumped into the bed that night at 3:30AM, with your pupils dilated so badly and acting completely hyper. You couldn't sit still and ran through the house as fast as you could for the next 3 days while never going to sleep. You never stopped moving for those days and were completely exhausted by the time the med wore off which ultimately made things worse for you, not better!

There were some days when you showed flashes of the old Tank who we loved so much but the cancer was relentless and despite all of your efforts to cope it was clear that we were losing you. How hard you tried to be your normal self and stay with us but we couldn't help you at all. Although Tank wasn't taking his monumental baths but he washed his face with his front paws which I thought that it meant he was doing a little better never realizing that it was an indication of him being in constant pain.
On your last day even though you were home with all of your safe areas and with both of us, you knew that something was seriously wrong but you still counted on us to make you better as we always had in the past. Your last day with us seemed to be a relatively good one for you. You went out with Vicki and followed her to feed the birds, you defended your kingdom and chased a furry rodent away into the woods, you bounded up the cellar stairs on the right side as you have every other day in the past, you stood up against me and the kitchen cabinet waiting for your food and last but never least you beat me to the bedroom multiple times waiting for your treats!
Despite all of this we both saw that you looked so sad even as you were trying your best not to die but to stay with us as long as possible even with your worsening pain. Once the vet came late Monday afternoon and your favorite pet sitter Lisa came too you knew that something was not good and sensed that the end was near. I watched you try to go down cellar where you would have been safe but you couldn't get the door open enough to go down the stairs. I looked at your expression of confusion but now panic too as you headed for the bedroom where you knew that you have always been safe.
Once you got up on the bed I gave you a few treats which was distracting enough that the vet could give you a sedative shot while Vicki was petting you too. The sedative took effect so fast and your back legs gave out from under you as you lay down on your towel. Your tongue was out partway from your lips and you looked so helpless and confused pleading for me to help you.
Lord, Tank I could see the fear and confusion now in your eyes and your expression and I could imagine you asking why can't you help me, what's happening to me, please stop! I don't want to die, I want to stay with you and not be in pain but we couldn't do a damn thing to help you and it was killing us as well.
The vet made 3 paw prints and shaved off a small bit of fur in 3 places from your back. Then we held both held you and stroked your soft fur as she shaved your leg and gave you the last shot you would ever take. It was only a short time when you took your last breath in our arms at 5:29PM, August 1st, 2022 as our tears washed over you. We held you for many minutes crying over you, our son, and praying that you crossed the Rainbow Bridge peacefully into good health and no longer in any pain. We pray that we'll see you again because we all will reunite in heaven.

After he died Tank was cremated and his ashes now rest in the center of the mantle where he continues to watch over and guard his kingdom. Come Spring a small portion of his ashes will come to rest under his favorite arborvitae bush where, for years, he spent untold peaceful hours enjoying the outdoors while remaining almost invisible to his staff whenever they searched for him.