20 February 2009 - 13:05
the breaking pointI want to make it clear that I do not agree with many of our Protector's perspectives and mannerisms, but he makes good decisions, and he gets things done fast, when necessary. Yes, I am Sandra-Auroring with him now, but this is not him trying to pump his ego up, as he has none. Believe me on that. He is just a corpse. He feels nothing.
But speaking of corpses, we had to bury our dead dog today. He died the day before yesterday, and we started digging a hole to put him in on that same day, but we didn't finish, mainly due to the fact we were too worried about our other dog, Knightmare. He and Midnight are brothers from the same litter - twins, actually, if memory serves. They had a sister in the litter too, but she looked nothing like them, and she died as a pup.
Sorry, spaced out there for a few minutes. I'd never really stopped to think of their sister until just now. Anyway, we didn't get to bury him the day after because we went to the vet's to get Knightmare checked out, and it turns out he's dying. It's been a stressful week, to say the least. And so now, two days after the incident (Midnight died Wednesday morning), we got around to burying the guy. Finishing the hole we started was no big deal, especially after the help we got from mom and her new talache, the problem was... well, the guy'd been dead for a while. He smelled, and was covered with a sheet we didn't want to peek under. No one really knew how to move him. His belly was getting bloated and flies were buzzing all around the curtain/sheet that covered his body. Honestly, we were afraid he'd pop if we tried to pick him up, and dragging him just seemed wrong. I was really worried about B. (Piojo's fading from my blood, so it's just me here now.) Ninja was trying to figure something out involving shovels and a wheelbarrel so we wouldn't have to touch him, but that wasn't working out too well. Mom was no help, either. I could tell she just wanted us to move our dog, and then help us throw dirt on top.
15:14 Well, that was one long conversation. It was my sister. What were we going on about here? Oh, yes. Burying our dog. Long story short, it was Piojo, once again, that solved everything in the end. He has no qualms about dead things, and certainly had no attachments whatsoever to our dead dog. It amazes me still how he was just able to go over and roughly scoop up the heavy carcass onto a blue canvas sheet and wrap him up. There were maggots already crawling out of Midnight's swollen mouth. His eyes were closed as though he were sleeping, for which I'm thankful. I know that underneath the eyelids, his eyeballs must've already started to shrivel up and sink in to the back of his skull. I'm getting slightly sick to my stomach just thinking of it now. My heart's beating kinda fast, too. After throwing up everything for three days straight, my stomach's not used to holding anything down. We just ate a while ago while on the phone with my sister, and I struggle now to keep the soup down.
I need to get off this thing and go distract myself. Plus, I'd say a shower is definately in order. We haven't had one since Tuesday, I don't think. To be honest, I'm not even sure. For the first time in years, we're actually having fugue states again. It's all this stress, I know it. I have gaps in my memory over the past few days, and whatever I do remember is fuzzy as all shit, as Ninja would say. It's especially hard to cope with, but I know B's got a lot to do with it, and Piojo trying to exert his control over her. I don't mind him shoving her into the dark recess of unconciousness, but he's never been a team player, and he'll shove us all back along with her. I'm surprised we were actually co-running for a while there, when I starting typing this all up. We actually only do so when he's on his way out, but just sticks around long enough to make sure one of us frontrunners can hack the real world. I'm sure if he saw me too stressed over it all, he would've promptly taken over again and not allowed me here at all.
Well, I'm off to shower; might as well let all these other guys sleep. Life's been rough on all of us, and they'll need our rest.