Ugh you guys I want a pet.  I want a cat or a dog to live with me and be my friend and be really annoying and then be really cute to make up for it.  We live in a leetle one-bedroom apartment with a bathroom that fits two people only if the door is open, both are standing, and neither move, so it’s not like we have space for one.  However, these last two years of marriage (read: only two) are the only ones of my life I haven’t lived with a pet and I’m starting to go a little mad.

I’m to the point where I’m mournfully recollecting past pets, thinking about writing them some odes.  And then possibly leaving those heartfelt poems in places where Nikolai will see them and  understand what he’s doing to me with his selfish “can we afford it” and “do we have room” arguments.

For now, all I can do is visit friends and lovingly maul their pets to fill the dark, empty, fur-less void within my soul, Nick.  

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