TW: vent about the d34th of a pеt
Today I found my cat dead. He passed away in his sleep, looking just like a loaf of bread. He was eight years old and a lovely cat—very clever and very affectionate. He loved to sprawl out on my bed as if it were he, not me, who slept on the pillow every night. Whenever I think that I will no longer see him sitting on the terrace railing in the summer, basking in the sun, I feel as though I am dying.
I do not follow any particular religion; I believe in what I consider to be right and true to the reality around me. And I believe we’ll meet again; perhaps he’ll have a different form and I won’t recognise him, but he’ll certainly recognise me.
“I'll see you again,
we'll get to know each other
and love each other,
one day
we'll meet again”
