February 8, 2011; Farewell

Two years...

And...well...it was the last straw. Skeeter announced, "Tonight you are going to adapt to our lives. We are going to the theatre and we will not be back until ten—"

"—THAT'S TWO HOURS PAST MY WALK AND MEAL TIME—" I roared.

He went on without even looking at me. "—and you are going to behave or suffer the consequences." I looked up at Boo-Boo who was putting on his coat and he turned away.

"—but! but! but!—" I sounded like a retard and Skeet smiled at me indulgently like I was a retard. And off they went. I didn't piss on the floor or shit or chew something up. I made my plans. This, I knew, was going to be easy. They came home at 10:30 with no apology but, "There's a storm out there," from Skeeter. We ate. I walked. I pissed. I shit. I sharpened my plan. We watched TV. We went to bed. They slept.

Slowly I got out of bed. The house was snoring. Cosmo was in the kitchen. "You sure you want to do this?" the phantom Dalmatian asked. "Yes," I said and with a whispered, "Good luck, then," from him, he disappeared.

I went to the kitchen table, jumped on a chair and grabbed Boo's house keys and then hid them in the couch.

Now I am here. I will try to find a way to keep blogging—I have ideas about that. But this might be my last entry. In a few hours Boo has a meeting. He will go to it, come home and have to ring to get in as his house keys are gone. Skeet will go down to let him in, too pissed off about having to haul his carcass to the door downstairs to notice I'm right behind him.

The door will open...and I am out

LATER

I have to do this. I can't live with the sadness—Boo's, Cate's and sometimes Skeet's. I have my own problems and have to tend to them. I don't have the energy to help help help help all the time. And the Boys organizing their lives so that I have to adapt—well, that will not fly.

Boo has gone to work, Skeet is sleeping. I look around and wonder if there's something...something...

LATER

No. Nothing holding me here.

Move forward, for fuck's sake! Be a dog!

The doorbell is ringing. Have to turn off the computer. Skeet is moaning and bitching...getting up...

Have to go