Worst. Weekend. Ever.
Our cat, Billy, passed away.
He went out on Friday night and never returned.
This morning, our cousin's husband rang up saying he'd found Billy the previous day, 'sleeping' in their garden (well, dead but he looked like he'd just fallen asleep and drifted off in his sleep) so he'd buried him and only realized it was Billy when our cousin said so… at least we know where he went (he went back where he grew up, he was forever going back there and playing, bless him) but it didn't stop us wheeping our eyes out. I keep getting all teary eyed and shit ever so often... and yet I still have to go to university tomorrow regardless because 'I just have to get on with it' I mean I know that's the case but this has really knocked my depression and I just. I don't feel like doing anything really.
R.I.P Billy, I love you.
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