It’s raining. My cat is buried outside. He doesn’t like rain.
We have a land. Small farm. I buried my cat a month ago after a night in the vet hospital that ended up in euthanasia. I made the hole directly after coming back, exhausted to the bone at 4am.
Today it is raining. I am crying because he is outside, getting wet. He would have run inside. He disliked the rain. He would have lie down with me, listening to the rain from inside.
I know he is dead. I know it doesn’t make sense. But I am sobbing anyway.