NEED A GREAT COVER ARTIST?

NEED A GREAT COVER ARTIST?
NEED A GREAT COVER ARTIST?

Friday, March 18, 2016

HAIR BALL GRIEVES

I'm sad. My brother, the pansy-boy. The Regal one. The master of dumping in front of the toilet has left me forever.

I will never eat in the kitchen ever again. I will never ever fight to sit in his sofa spot ever again. I want him to come back. There are so many things I need to apologize to him for.

I'm sorry for headbutting him off the sofa and stealing his treats and food. And for not sharing my toys and sometimes for wishing that he would leave so I could have my Mummsy all to myself. Now I have her and she's sad. So am I.

Sir Poops was really sick for a long time. I knew that. He stunk like it, too. The last couple weeks with him, the stench had me hiding in closets and under the bed. We found out that liver cancer was eating his insides. I don't like cancer. Daddy-o got sick in 2013 and lost all of his fur because of it. But he's still here. I'm glad. But I'd like my brother back.

The morning before he left us, Mummsy gave him special treatment. It included a whole can of his favorite food and a giant dallop of peanut butter. He even got extra minutes outside to watch the neighbors go off to work and see the kids get on the school bus. He liked doing that. Mummsy even walked him around the neighborhood in her arms without me. I didn't like that much.

And then Mummsy's best bud showed up. I knew something was up because she was sad, too.

Not long after that, some Doctor lady, named Dr. Nil came to our house. She explained some stuff to my Mummsy that I didn't understand and then we all went upstairs. Mummsy was holding Sir Poops.


Mummsy's best bud took me out of the bed room for a few minutes. I thought it was weird. But I went with it. I like attention.

Anyway, I heard Mummsy tell her to bring me back and she did.

My brother was laying on Mummsy and Daddy-o's bed. He was snoring. I hopped onto it and sniffed at my brother. He stunk really bad. After, I trotted up to the doctor and she said, "It's time. We need to take him out again."

I didn't understand. Once again, I had to go to another room. And when I was brought back in, Mummsy was wailing over my brother. I still didn't understand.

I hopped back onto the bed, and circled pansy-boy. There was something different about him. He had stopped snoring and his warm breath didn't brush against my nose when I sniffed him.

I plopped beside him and stuck my head under his blanket. His heartbeat was gone.

That doctor lady said he got his wings. Whatever that means. She wrapped him up in a blanket and put him into a basket. She even let me sniff him one last time before driving off with my brother.

Will I ever see him again?

The house is soooo lonely without him.

posted from Bloggeroid