My little buddy is gone. She lived with me in four states, across three apartments and two houses and six rooms. I made her two salads a day for almost seven years, and I checked in with her every single time I went in or out of any one of my living rooms, and now I’m still checking in with her every time I come in or out, and I’m still talking to her without thinking about it, and I feel like these things are deep down in my muscle memory, and so I wonder how long it will be until I stop doing that.
She had a really wonderful life for a rabbit, and I said goodbye to her at the right time, and none of that makes me feel any better at all.
She was really sort of a pain in the ass most of the time, and I wish that she was still here.