Between sadness fries

When my dog gets to heaven, I hope God has a beard. I hope he’s an old white guy with a beard because my dog historically did not like the facially haired. They would get into a thing, and then Patches would go to hell where we could hang out in damnation forever, because I’m a terrible person who wants his dog to bite God for making shitty rules about lifespans, so obviously I’m going to hell. But really if you have your dog in hell then how bad could it be?

See how I just zinged God and his stupid rules?

Now give my fucking dog back, You cunt.

Sorry God, I didn’t mean that.
It’s just that I’m really hurting now and
LOOK OVER THERE.

RUN PATCHES! COME BACK TO ME!

NO, DONT WORRY ABOUT GOD
HES OLD AND FORGIVING. YOU GOT THIS.

Yeah, I know you’re forgiving too, Patches.
You’re the best.

I love you.
I love you so much.

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13 thoughts on “Between sadness fries

  1. I look at my comment and realized I could be misunderstood as unfeeling. I am sorry for your loss, I was just reflecting that you handled it in a better mind frame than I have in the past. I get all weepy, write a sentimental post about abstract meanings of love. You were on point with your hurt, and in doings so helped us see. I like the way you see through the pain. Hugs

    • Thanks so much for your kindness and creative validation. It goes a long way. I’m sorry if I opened up any emotional sores. I still have inappropriate outbursts of sadness in Round Table Pizzas and the occasional Subway. Hope you have a great day

  2. “inappropriate outbursts of sadness” – are there any other kind? And why, why must they be inappropriate? Sigh. Earlier this very week I fought tears in the office, throat clogged with emotion over a family issue. I really hate getting emotional in my workplace; it’s so unprofessional. But too often emotion overtakes us and as Ron Weasley noted, no one could feel all of those things at once, they’d explode (paraphrased).

    I’m very sorry for your loss; we lost one of our last remaining dogs in May this year. I still miss him. 😦

  3. Studying theology I feel like my internal monologue is too similar to this every day.

    Sorry about your dog, he’ll be somewhere great. Even if it’s just great soil. Ok this took a turn, sorry too much wine and now I’m just writing about your poor dog and I don’t know when to stop 🐳

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