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| We met in 2008. He died yesterday, December 12, 2013, at around 9:20 pm. |
We pissed on that laundry basket of heartbreaks those five years sent our way, didn't we? That's what jerks like us do. And we did it together. And we had awful fun, just the two of us, irritating each other to death. I will miss you, Prince, and I will miss you more than the little immature boys I played around with. I can't remember when you weren't there, haha. You were always there, cat, always. You never made me feel alone.
I love you Prince... Priiiinnceee!... That's how I call for you every day as soon as I get home from work. That wasn't necessary, however, because you're already running down the stairs to meow me your cat variations of "Good Morning." Always. This stopped five days ago when your complications kicked in. You never failed to meow me back. And you were eating less and less. Something was wrong, and it went wrong, and things went from bad to worse, and it got so deadly bad.
I'm sorry I wasn't as prompt as I needed to be, Baby... Baabyyyyy! ... That's how I call for you whenever I felt like shit. That wasn't necessary, however, because you were always on your way to meow me your cat variations of "You look like you can use a hug. Here."
I was hugging your remains for twenty more minutes before I tucked you in that shoe box. I'm sorry if I got you wet, but I made sure you were comfortable. I wrapped you in one of my favorite shirts. There were times when I had to dry my ugly crying face before writing shit away. And, until now, I never cried while writing. Are you happy now? We were supposed to be crazy together. Now I'm just crazy alone.
I'll try to write you something real nice as soon as I stop crying like a little girl. Because I am crying like a little girl who lost her fiercely loyal cat. I love you, Prince, and thank you for loving me back.
