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My cat Nixon died in 2012.
I was cleaning the cat carrier just now and noticed the tag on it, which said "Nixon [Mylastname]." I ripped it off and wadded it up without thinking about it. I am fucked up like some kind of an Edna St. Vincent Millay which is specifically preoccupied with the mortality of badly-behaved cats.
I was looking for something in the medicine cabinet earlier, found some old meds of Papaw's, and left them in place as always, because "he might need them," then felt distantly shitty, then left them alone.
I need to try and be Roxy Lalonde instead of Rose Lalonde for once and work on the Facing And Accepting Death thing. I just need to try and not do it up too Roxy and drink this bottle of fruit wine Mom got me in one evening or something.
I was looking for something in the medicine cabinet earlier, found some old meds of Papaw's, and left them in place as always, because "he might need them," then felt distantly shitty, then left them alone.
I need to try and be Roxy Lalonde instead of Rose Lalonde for once and work on the Facing And Accepting Death thing. I just need to try and not do it up too Roxy and drink this bottle of fruit wine Mom got me in one evening or something.