I feel incomplete somehow, like a portion of my soul was forcibly removed and a gaping bleeding hole was left behind. My animals made up such a large portion of my life that I hardly can figure out what to do with my life. I've trudged for years through a cesspool of dead end jobs, one right after another, for the sole purpose of caring for Laika and Fame. I rolled through the motions of life, putting up with jobs that I hated for those precious times when Laika would rest her head on my lap or lay on my feet on cold nights. Or when Fame, good, wonderful Fame would drape his head over my shoulder and stand and let me stroke his long neck and run my fingers through his mane and just let me cry out the frustrations of the day.
It's hard to lose an animal you cared for. It's harder to lose both in the same year. Fame passed in May, Laika in November and now in February I still find myself braking down from time to time. I still cannot go through a day without feeling like I've forgotten to feed the dog or break the ice on her water bucket.
I sometimes feel like I'm crazy for feeling this way, and non-horse/dog people don't understand it. To other what I mourn for is "just a dog", "just a horse", "just an animal". I feel like people expect me to get over it quickly be cause I mourn an animal death rather than a person. That irritates me a little, it like cheapening the lives of the two creatures I loved most, or cheapening my attachment to Laika and Fame because they aren't human.
I miss them and I'm likely to go on missing them.
James, Part II
2 weeks ago