To my beloved Punk

It’s been almost five years now since you left. I think about you a lot of days still. Silly, I’m sure, you’d think someone could move on after five years. A lot in my life has changed; I wish you were still here to see it all. There’s so much that I wish I could have shared with you, you know? You would have loved where I lived most of the time I’ve been in VA. It was a really small apartment, but it would have been perfect for one guy and his cat.

I miss you all the time, you know. There are mornings when I get up and get confused when I walk outside of the bedroom and you aren’t there. I’ll sit down on the couch – which I avoid a lot now – and wonder if you’re ok, why you haven’t come over to settle down yet. There’s been a couple times when I “accidentally” left a sip of that special “chocolate milk” you loved so much in my glass at my desk for you, only to remember an hour later that you aren’t there anymore. Sometimes I can see you out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn my head to look, there’s nothing there.

Why did you have to leave? I know you were old, and I know you were in pain, and I am so glad that you are able to rest now in the field before the rainbow bridge where you are young and happy and can hunt and play. I just miss you so much that it hurts my heart to think about you, and I hate that. I love you, Punk, and there’s a hole in my heart that will never go away. You were my best friend.

I miss my best friend.

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