Crap.

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Sh*t. Just … crap. Today I picked up Zootie’s ashes. Somehow it feels more final than the day we took him in, which is odd. I stood there and was petting him as they administered the medications to put him down, but holding the box with his ashes really hit home. I’ve had tears at the edges of my eyes since I picked the box up. Damn. I feel like crap now.

I wasn’t feeling all that great when I got up, slept weird, I guess. But now I can’t seem to stop crying … at least a little. It’s not like I’m debilitated by grief, but I wipe away the tears, and a few more start … dammit. I’ll be okay, I guess I just need to let the grief out, but geez. I have things to do … walking down the street with tears in my eyes won’t do.