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the next day

Last night I took some drugs - acetaminophen pm - to make sure I slept through the night. And it worked. I woke, looked at the door to my bedroom, which was open. I have opened the doors that I closed to Bullet during his last illness.

I am getting rid of all evidence of that illness. Not of Bullet but of those awful days and weeks. I am cleaning spots in the rug and splashes of saliva and blood on the walls. Looking at these remnants reminds me too much of how it was for him.

I am taking this very hard, perhaps harder than I have the deaths of other animals. I don't know why, except that it was so drawn-out. And because Bullet was smelly and matted at the end and hard to hug.

In the midst of my tears, though, I feel like a weight has shifted and I can do better now for myself.

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( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
dangerouslysane
Oct. 25th, 2008 07:10 pm (UTC)
*hugs*
darsjournal
Oct. 25th, 2008 11:23 pm (UTC)
I think I cried more over the death of my Kimbie than I did my parents. There is a special bond of pure acceptance and love. I so understand. Take care of yourself. Dar
judith
Oct. 25th, 2008 11:51 pm (UTC)
There is no doubt that we feel greater pain after the death of a special companion animal than for people, in general. The animals do not expect too much of us, they have simple needs and they give generously in return. Our relationships with them are pure, whereas our relationships with people tend to be mired in various kinds of conflicts along with the love.

Thank you so much for your thoughts and for writing.
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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