I love you when you're singing that song,
and I got a lump in my throat
'cause you're gonna sing the words wrong.- Vance Joy, Riptide
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From December 28th, 2011, the day that Bunnie died:
[M]y Bunnie ... was a goldfish among goldfish. After all, over her 6.5 years of life, Bunnie was present at every milestone of my adult life. Because it didn’t matter what I was going through, it didn’t matter what fights I was battling — we always had a standing appointment every morning and night for me to feed her food flakes, for six and a half years. And she was always punctual.
Thank you, Bunnie.
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If this is any foreshadowing as to what I'll be like in my next relationship, then I will be very impatient with getting to know each other. I'll want to dive straight into the heart of the matter -- where we're already farting and finishing each other's sentences.
Definitely not to imply that I've even had a date lately, let alone a romantic interest.
Rather, there are two much tinier gentlewomen that have recently become an element of my life. I am currently hosting two critters for a friend -- an extremely shy little fluffball named Macaroni, and an energetic little lady named Noodle.
They're uneasy with the new surroundings, new smells, new everything, so they've been particularly shy with me. At every little sound I make, they dart into their little hiding spot until they swear I'm gone. I really just want to admire them and hang out and pet them, but clearly that's going to take a while.
They make me miss Bunnie.
Bunnie was my goldfish in high school and college -- I had two goldfish actually, but Munchie died before college started. Munchie lived for about three years, while Bunnie lived for almost seven -- I had no idea what was the lifespan of a goldfish when I first purchased them (I was expecting a few months, maybe a year tops), and every one of their birthdays was a pleasant surprise. Bunnie died during Christmas break of my Junior year of college, while I was visiting the folks. My dad always thinks it's because she wanted to die in her hometown. I always thought that was a whimsical way to think of it.
I didn't experience this quite as much with Munchie, but by the time Bunnie and I knew each other for a while, she would get excited and swim in my direction every time I came home from class. I spent a lot of time wondering if she was just trained -- these light patterns of the door opening and closing indicate that I'm about to be fed -- or if she knew me. Was it really all just rudimentary instinct for food, or did she know who I was? Moreover, can a goldfish love? When she was a few years old, I could dip my finger in the water and she would swim so that she'd rub against my finger. Outside of stingrays and starfish in the petting pools at the aquarium, she was the only instance I've had of "petting" a fish. Could this simple goldfish actually... love me?
In any case, I loved the routine that I had with that fish. I loved our bond as owner and pet, as Bringer of Food and Perpetually Hungry Goldfish.
So now, where all I'm currently staring at are two blurs of fluff cuddling in a hiding spot, I am feeling super impatient. I don't want to wait for these pets and I to get to know each other. I want to be in the thick of it! I want them to already enjoy my company so much, that I'll start wondering if they love me! I am unreasonably impatient for two creatures that I've barely met. I already just want to hear their excited tiny paws as they run around, knowing I'm going to feed them. Right now, I'm just that tall and scary thing that makes a lot of sounds.
I'm sure it'll come in time (assuming that they don't spaz out and die on me), but until then, I'm counting my blessings for the great times I had with Bunnie!
and ed
omg dont even get me started on ed right now, omg i loved that cat omg