Thursdays are the worst. It’s the day I lost you, and the night that I lost Chico. I guess Chico died on the Friday morning, technically, but it doesn’t matter.
It’s been three weeks, and some of me still feels like this isn’t real. I can’t really explain it, but it’s as though you’re not gone, but I don’t see you. I don’t think I’m in denial about you not being here, but maybe I just feel your presence still. Sounds like hippy bullshit, but stranger things have happened.
I’m adjusting to my new ‘normal’ with the two brindle dumb dumbs (you were the only sane one of the bunch, Paco). It’s a bizarre normal. I don’t have to worry about timing things out, or staying up late after work to give you your pills. I just wake up and go. It’s different with the dogs, too, as they are ready and willing to go on all adventures. You used to be excited, but it broke my heart when you’d be so uncomfortable that you’d just shake. Still, I’d be happy just sitting at home with you. You were my best little buddy, and you were a really nice Chihuahua.
I still cry about you, albeit not as often. I still think of you all of the time and I still look at photos of you. You were such a cute boy, such a character.
It saddens me that I couldn’t really write after you died. I know that it’s not my fault, but it has been comforting, over the years, to look back and read old posts about Chico. I know it will still be nice to read the ones that I did manage to write about you, but I wish I could have written more.
I love you, Paco.
It’s been three weeks, and some of me still feels like this isn’t real. I can’t really explain it, but it’s as though you’re not gone, but I don’t see you. I don’t think I’m in denial about you not being here, but maybe I just feel your presence still. Sounds like hippy bullshit, but stranger things have happened.
I’m adjusting to my new ‘normal’ with the two brindle dumb dumbs (you were the only sane one of the bunch, Paco). It’s a bizarre normal. I don’t have to worry about timing things out, or staying up late after work to give you your pills. I just wake up and go. It’s different with the dogs, too, as they are ready and willing to go on all adventures. You used to be excited, but it broke my heart when you’d be so uncomfortable that you’d just shake. Still, I’d be happy just sitting at home with you. You were my best little buddy, and you were a really nice Chihuahua.
I still cry about you, albeit not as often. I still think of you all of the time and I still look at photos of you. You were such a cute boy, such a character.
It saddens me that I couldn’t really write after you died. I know that it’s not my fault, but it has been comforting, over the years, to look back and read old posts about Chico. I know it will still be nice to read the ones that I did manage to write about you, but I wish I could have written more.
I love you, Paco.