I picked George up and carried him over to a scale so that I could weigh him and then subtract my weight. He was not at all happy about that and after I was done, he stalked off, radiating catitude. The little shitcake went into my bedroom and took a massive dump on the floor.
This came back with Gracie's ashes:
We called the vet to ask about it. They confirmed that they made the paw print post-mortem. There was one for Rocky, as well. I cannot begin to tell you how touched we were to receive them. They will be treasured. But this shit is still too raw.
4 comments:
My heart goes out to you all over again. I have very few people that I can call a friend. I share your amazement and love.
w3ski
That hit me hard too.
Hope your doing better.
Eck!
Oh, yeah....when I lost the first of my many rescued ferrets to a massive cascade of organ failures, the vet office sent me a little plaque with a verse and her name. I bust into tears every time I looked at it for over a year.
And oh, those animals staging "shit-ins" to protest, little furry hippies, they are!
I feel for you. I still miss my daughter's cat as I do her.
As for the 'deposit' you sure he ain't a dachshund in disguise?...
All The Best,
Frank W. James
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