...actually its more of a dog really. And more of an absence of a dog.
My roomies have this dog named Elliot. Had.
He passed away last night, evidently in his sleep.
Now, everyone knew it was going to happen. He lost so much weight his bones were sticking out all over. He felt like a fur-covered pile of legos. He hadn't eaten in days and barely drank water. He couldn't go to the bathroom outside without having to take a nap at the top of the stairs because the work was exhausting.
Yet when he dies people still act like it was a surprise.
I don't know if its just me. Maybe I don't feel grief anymore? But I've been here through the entire rapid degeneration of the dog and when he died and they told me about it, I got up, brushed my hair and came out to sit on the couch and listen to people without really thinking or feeling anything about it.
Its like being at a funeral for a human being.
They start making up all these stories or talking about how someone is feeling more grief than they are in order to make themselves feel better.
Its weird. And kind of irritating. But I just don't care enough to say anything. Or maybe that's just the nugget of decency in me keeping me from saying something that would upset those in a state of depression.
I don't know. I just think when he's been sick for weeks, and then he stops eating, that it should be obvious.
They should be prepared.
I don't know.
Its weird, all around. But this too shall pass.
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