We gave up our dog, Shadow.

[_TearDropOnFire_]

I will miss him even though he was a pain at times. I just hope he has a good home with his new people. Sorry, just needed to get that off my chest. *wanders off into the night*

[barbsg]

Awww hugs!

[_TearDropOnFire_]

Thanks barbsg. [img]smile.gif[/img]

[padfoot]

Awww [img]frown.gif[/img] *huge hugs*

[_TearDropOnFire_]

Thanks Diana.

[hippo girl]

aww! *huggles* i know what it is like to igve up a pet
[img]frown.gif[/img]

if u wanna tlk i can ok?

[_TearDropOnFire_]

Yeah. I just feel guilty. [img]frown.gif[/img]

[hippo girl]

aww dont feel guilty, i dont think the lil doggie would mind!

if he loved u he would understand.

[img]smile.gif[/img]

[_TearDropOnFire_]

It's not about the dog actually. It's about my mother. She was blaming me for wanting the dog and I did. That's why I feel guilty. I just wish she would drop it. I can't stand her sometimes.

[chrisgell12]

As a reader, this sentence lands like a punch to the chest—it’s not just a pet, but a presence, a shadow in every sense. The brevity suggests a story too heavy to unpack, a choice born from love or desperation that still haunts. Perhaps, like the playful, short-legged Munchkin cats, we try to fill the void with smaller comforts, but they can never stretch to reach the same shelf of memory. Ultimately, the name "Shadow" becomes painfully literal—an absence that follows you anyway, silent and loyal even in leaving.