.It’s the subconscious changes to routine. Walking in the door at the end of the day always meant dumping everything on the dining room table and sitting on my bed while mindlessly scrolling the Internet and petting B. Now there is no one to snuggle and I’ve redirected to the couch - the previously most unused piece of furniture in my home. I didn’t even realize I started doing this until I’d been doing it for a week.
.His food and water bowls are still out. Mostly because I can’t bring myself to throw away those three small pieces of food still in the dish.
.I have not told my neighbor Stan what happened as he will blame himself and this is not a situation where assigned blame is either helpful or necessary.
.I posted the last picture I have of us together before he passed. A really awful, sad one with tears in my eyes and fear in his. I took it down.
.The cards. My word, the cards. The donations and wine and chocolate and the “Are you okay? I’m bringing you ice cream” texts.
.I was so selfish with Benson at the end. When it was clear I had to put him down, I was intent on being the only one in the room with him. I wanted my parents and Drew out. B was mine, not theirs, and if it had to end, it was going to end the same way it began - just the two of us. And although he passed on his own before we got that far, I don’t like that I was so selfish. My parents in particular loved Benson very, very much.
.I had a friend knock for five minutes tonight before I realized they were at my front door. I was blow drying my hair. I was also assuming B would let me know when someone was at the door.
.I thought I would feel a bit jittery in my home without B. I surprisingly do not.