Staying up to work's just a chore. No more feeding, nibbling, attention seeking, feet bumping, balling running routines to attend to. The night's gone so quiet even with my music playing.
For no particular I'm looking out of the window and every once in a while look at the tree where we buried him and wonder if this were some kind of prank played on me. And maybe he was still alive and was suffering from some momentary disorder and we buried him...man, this is sick.
After watching that documentary, "I woke up in a morgue", I'll totally agree with anyone saying there's a possibility he didn't die.. since I've the slightest idea of what the cause of his death is. When I left the house, he was still up and running.. next thing I know, 'Boom!', he's gone!!
Argh.. I know I'm whining and it sucks. Sorry to anyone who's reading this.
RIP Cloudy : 16th August 2008







