Stages of Grief
I deal with grief in my own way. I know that I'm supposed to deal with denial and anger and bargaining before I even begin to encroach on acceptance. I am not one to deal with things according to a predetermined grief schedule. Rather, I prefer to deal with my grief about
Wiggy's passing in my own way.
Denial. I poked Wiggy's stiffened corpse several times. Surely, she wasn't dead. I looked at the cat. He was fine. I had not neglected to feed either one of them. Still, I couldn't help but poke her body a few more times to make sure that she was dead and not merely experiencing a bout of temporary rigor mortis. When I had assured myself that Wiggy was completely dead and not just doing that rodent dead routine, I moved on to my next stage of grief.
Disgust. I retched at the thought of having to pick up Wiggy's dead rodent body and bag it. I paced the floor as I decided whether I would keep the pig in my freezer or the fridge. I keep my vodka in the freezer and I would hate to sully it's delectable goodness with a dead rodent. However, I keep my pickles in the fridge and I would hate to sully their salty goodness with a dead rodent.
Bargaining. I promised that I would give Wiggy more organic vegetables if she would just live for another few months. I would never forget her vitamins. I would be a better rodent owner if only the rodent G*d would grant me a little more time.
Vodka. The vodka phase of my grieving process lasted quite a long time. The first day of vodka was a sad day. I cried and mourned the loss of my pet. The second day, I removed my clothing. By the third day of the vodka stage, I had forgotten not only the name of my former pet, but my own as well.
Nudity. The nudity stage and the vodka stage of grieving went hand in hand. I found it quite easy to remove all clothing while deep in my vodka phase. It is hard to be naked and to grieve at the same time as being naked on the lake is generally a joyous occasion.
Hangover. This stage of grief is the briefest stage for me. I am still awaiting this phase to fully hit. This phase necessitates the end of the vodka phase, which is still in full pour for me.
Apparently, all those months of therapy have helped. Judging from my bedroom floor, I have succinctly passed through the bikini, lubricant, red wine, and candle phases. I have to pass out now. Thanks for all your kind words about Wiggy. I think I'll pull through this nicely.
PS: A grief more real than my own...please show a little love. Visit Avitable to show a little more love.