The unthinkable has happened: Carl Wheezer is dead. Killed by my own dogs it seems. Lots of tears. My eyes are actually swollen. Elliott is not upset because he doesn't understand what I keep telling him. And yes, I opted for "he died" not "he ran away." Though we've only had him for a few months, he was a huge part of our family. I mean, he was mentioned in 15 posts since I started this blog in August. Even my dad, traditionally not a lover of cats, liked this cat. And my sweet daddy buried him for me. And I haven't even paid the bill from getting him neutered. Salt in the wound.
I'm so sad that I couldn't even laugh this morning when I had to once again wear swimsuit bottoms in lieu of clean underwear. But I did choose black this time to reflect my mourning.
4 comments:
Emily, so sad. I'm sorry. :-(
thank you, dear friend
You know Holly and I are sad for you and Elliott and Doug. I'm thinking of buying you some panties as a "pick-me-up". Will the granny kind work?
absolutely! they will be much better then these swimsuit bottoms
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