Why do we do it to ourselves over and over…

For those of you who know exactly where this is going, you understand and probably are currently or can remember vividly when you asked this same question under this very specific context. But for those of you who don’t… Here is the context with a visual…

Myself, I have always been the type that is rough around the edges, a little gruff at times, you know, the one that when a rough situation occurs, I’m the one with their hand up “yeah, I’ll handle it”… It may not always be with a smile on my face, I may even go outside, down the road, find some woods, go into the center of it, and curse the gods loudly, soundly, vividly, and profoundly! Then go and handle it… Long after the deed is done, I break in private, alone, quietly, with no one the wiser.

I have never been a huge fan of humans in general either. They are fine from time to time and I can tolerate most of them if I must be around them. Don’t get me wrong, I have a few humans that I like very much, but again, the majority (considering the millions that there are) I could do without.

If you haven’t figured it out yet, I am speaking of the critters we invite to invade our space and take over our homes. The only beings we take on as roommates knowing they will never be able to pay their way, they will break our stuff, make huge messes, never flush the toilet, they will be up waiting and crappy if you are 15 minutes late, they leave their hair all over our clothes and furniture, they trip you in the morning, get in the way of your work when you are trying to focus, will rudely and intensely stare at you the entire time you eat, will lay on your face as you sleep, slap you the second you open the bathroom door from taking a shower, and oh so much more.

I guess its our own fault really. We do no background checks, no proof of funds, not even a security deposit! Worst of all, we know with a statistical certainty that they will move out long before us, leaving us holding the bag.

My roommate moved out last night…..

I just don’t get emotional and I don’t cry in general, not even after my botched surgery this last Friday which has been insanely painful, but I have already had to pause 3 times just writing this to wipe my eyes. Isn’t it weird how emotional we get over an animal? Animals pass every minute, its not very emotional right? Its just part of the cycle. But, when your animal passes, you feel somewhat broken for that moment in time. Not a word has ever been spoken between the two of us, not a single word, but I, of all people, find myself very emotional over it.

Milo was the roommate I never wanted, I mean, what man is happy when their wife brings another guy home… As my wife recalls the situation: She brings him in, hidden behind her from just going to the gas station. Eyes kind of low, with a sheepish grin, I know immediately somethings up, and its probably big… She showed her hand from behind her back and it had the tiniest little black fuzzball, and as she remembers, I said “NO NO NO… but… he is cute…”

He apparently was running around the gas pumps at the gas station trying to hide and she picked him up, asking everyone if he was theirs, no. Then she took him in and asked, they all said no, so here he was… I stayed away from him to make sure he bonded heavily with my wife, but the more time went on he gravitated to me whether I wanted him to or not… Isn’t that just how it works? I couldn’t go to the restroom in the morning alone, and he would push himself on me all the time, yowl at me regularly, bat at me til i pet him, even once jumped up on the counter, batted my coffee off the table, then hopped off, didn’t run, just walked leisurely off to the bedroom to sleep on my side of the bed…

But who am I kidding, my stories are not so different from anyone elses, the difference is, that he was our evil furball… As much as that critter frustrated me, messed with me, screwed up my work, tripped me, talked back to me, and so on and so on… I really miss my roommate.

When I woke up this morning and got out of bed, I walked all the way around waiting for the paw to nail my ankles that never came…

Sit down in the bathroom for the morning business, waiting for the yowling and scratching on the door until I let him in to sit at my feet quietly, that never came…

The fight over my socks when I sit on the edge of the bed in the morning to get ready for the day… I honestly didn’t even notice how long I had been sitting there until my watch went off and realized I was just sitting there with my socks in hand, waiting for the fight that would never come…

I feel as though I let him down, or maybe it’s just sadness of the moment, but my surgery will not let me lift more than 10 lbs, and I was unable to lift and hold him after his passing, I was unable to make his bed next to his brother, I was unable lower him to his final bed. I’m sorry buddy, this has always been my job, but this time I was unable, but I was there the entire time and made sure it was done right through the tears that could not be held. Goodnight my friend, you were truly a great roommate and above all, member of this family.