she found us on 21st oct 2019 at about 3 am. pitch dark night, Jim and her partner in crime, Dwight, were roaming and crying for their mother. Jim had turned our vehicle into her base. we got her out and she immediately adopted us.
her adorable, innocent face -- it was forever love at first sight.
yet whenever i think about the first time we met, a picture of her wrapped head to toe with that blue sheet, lying like a rock inside a box comes up and i have to deal with it all over again -- "our baby is dead".
that day, right before burying her, we opened all the wrapping which covered her. she looked so tiny and frozen. that picture is etched in my brain so well that a glimpse of it brings back all the pain.
there's so much guilt, anger and helplessness from back then. every happy memory of my child is replaced with her in the box, dead, or her in the cage just the day before, shouting at me even though the poor thing could barely talk. i hate it that i left her alone there. i hate that i didn't take her with me when she shouted for me. that sound, that cry, the eyes; it hurts so fucking much.
to my Jimbo, i can never stop missing you, darling. and i know neither can Dwight or your dad. so, if possible, come back to us? please?