Nothing. I’ll write up a whole thing tomorrow about our baby girl and how much she meant to us, but I’m dehydrated from tears and the sweat of digging a grave in thirty-degree-celsius heat (not to mention lack of sleep), and I’ve got a pounding headache.
Suffice it to say, we’ve lost something beautiful today, and my heart hangs in tattered shreds.
People say they’re just animals, but fuck them. Anyone who doesn’t understand the love between a person and their pet is emotionally stunted.
You might as well take your heart and throw it in a river, for all the good it’s doing, you soulless jerk.
Sorry, I’ve never gotten over the comment about our first loss: “It’s just a cat.”
Fuck you, bitch. Fuck you.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 1048 words, novel: Bad Neighbours
Read: Rocket Ship Galileo, Robert Heinlein
Comics: Death Or Glory 11, Low 23-25
Music: Warp Bootleg, CKY