One day, you may tell me that a non-human being you have cared for has passed away, and I may respond, "yeah, that's what they do,". If I don't then I will think it.
In this case, please don't think that this is a dismissal. It is merely a reflection of how I've come to deal with the aspect of existence called "loss". I don't pretend it is perfect.
But, at least, hear this:
To me it is a way of saying what happens when you love. You will love a being, and that will go away, and it will cut and it will hurt and you may realize that you never loved that as much as they loved you and regret never having the chance to again …(even though that's kindofexactly what you're doing in thatmoment.
You love them. And you blink. And they're gone. And they make you wish they were still where you are.
That's what they do.
ForTHEJERKFatboyMr.FatbootyBigBodyRoundMoundOfTheeHoundAndTugOfWarAndShoeLicking
AndPantsLickingAndTooManyToysAndHappyTableLapsAndIDontRunAndIDontDoPillsAndIFakepoop
AndStillCarpetWipeAndIDontWantThatButIMStillHungryAndItsTooHotImGoingBackInside,
❤
bootsy
.
