We didn’t ask to keep your ashes. (We chose cremation because we cannot bear your little body being eaten away by maggots, at best.) Because, what are we going to do with your ashes? It’s not you. When we eventually left the hospital, I couldn’t help but feeling like I was abandoning you. Even though I wasn’t. And you wouldn’t care even when you were alive. (You always happily walked away with them without even looking back.) I didn’t want to leave you. But I don’t think you care either way. More accurately, I didn’t want you to leave me. But you did, and there’s nothing I could do.
You brought me such joy that I never could imagine. I don’t understand why I bratty little thing can mean so much to me. You understand hand gestures/what we want you to do, but you only do it if you feel like it. You don’t like being touched, but when we seem to have forgot about you, you would walk over and demand some rubbing. I really really hope you enjoyed the three years you were with us. We really tried to make sure you’re happy and comfortable.