Or I don’t cry at them, to be more specific. Ever since my father’s funeral in 1995, my eyes stay dry as a bone. I don’t know if it’s that I want to be more helpful for others who are really and truely grieving or if it’s just a way for me to maintain control of myself.
Karlita_Bandita's Life List
We had to put my husband’s 13 year old mutt, Gizmo, down shortly before Christmas. She was VERY sick and we couldn’t afford the $300 in tests or $1500 for exploratory surgery which may or may not have told us what was wrong with her. I’d never held any of my dogs while they were put down, since I cry like a little girl when any animal dies, but since my husband couldn’t be there I “man-ed up” and did it.
My husband has gotten some comfort from my mom’s chihuahua, Lola, since she worships the ground he walks on. :) Mom even offered to give Lola to us since my husband loves her, but our 18 year old cat isn’t too keen on the idea. So for now I’m without my Chi but the status quo is still good for me.