It’s been one week since my little Phoebe girl departed from my life, and I’m getting along ok. I’m just generally sad and rather lonesome. And my routines have all been thrown out of whack.
I’m not feeling the sharp pain of loss anymore (which makes me feel rather guilty). Instead I’m kind of floating along right now in a funk. With occasional bouts of extremely short temper.
Damnit, I really miss her.
I miss her voice. It’s just too damn quiet in my condo now.
I miss my TV cuddle-buddy and my door greeter.
But It’s roughest for me at bedtime, because every night she curled up in the crook of my left arm and purred while I read until I got drowsy.
Now I’m finding reasons to stay up so as to avoid going to bed. Dishes. Cleaning. Watching The news & Late night TV personalities. Just pacing around.
I’m also finding reasons to avoid being in my condo. Biking. Errands. Workouts. Chorus. Band. Even my shitty job.
I need the distractions so I don’t beat myself up for not doing more for her while she was alive. Maybe one more vet visit would have caught something. Anything.
I promise to stop posting about this; I know this isn’t what you want to read. But as this is my diary, I just need to write it out.
If you have pets, you be sure to give them extra love and hugs from me.