Erozetta
Erotically Inclined
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2024
- Posts
- 1,998
That would've been my assumption, lol.
Writing Exercise: Pain
- Thread starter StillStunned
- Start date
StillStunned
Monsieur le Chat
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2023
- Posts
- 12,046
Hey, I reserve the right to be a total smeghead if and when I want!
Erozetta
Erotically Inclined
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2024
- Posts
- 1,998
That is a god given (I'm an atheist) right to all internet users.
TheExperimentalist
Inventive
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2024
- Posts
- 302
I hear some people are into that... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
StillStunned
Monsieur le Chat
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2023
- Posts
- 12,046
You were such a pain. Always spreading fluff everywhere. I don’t have a single item of clothing that doesn’t have cat hair on it.
And your picky eating habits! You’d decide you loved a certain brand of food – until the next day, when you’d turn up your nose at it. And then sulk until I brought you something more to your liking.
Once you were lost for three days. I barely slept. Combed the neighbourhood for you, rang on every doorbell. Hung posters all over. Until you jumped in through the window in the middle of the night, complaining fit to wake the dead. As if it was my fault. But you forgave me when I fed you, brushed you, told you how much I’d missed you.
The pain was physical sometimes. Lying on my chest, with your claws carefully over the edge of the blanket – no matter how high I pulled it up – so you could sink them into my skin to the rhythm of your purrs. And you knew I’d never have the heart to stop you, not with your head pressed under my chin.
Or worse: lying stretched out along my leg, you’d sometimes reach out to wrap a paw around my foot. And then extend your nails into my sole. Who ever knew pain like existed?
And who could suppose that there was a pain even worse? The pain of seeing you suffer in your old age, the pain of watching the will to live seep slowly out of you. The pain of deciding to take you to the vet, of hearing the verdict.
The pain of saying farewell as you fell asleep. And the pain of returning home, alone, to a house that was devoid of your presence. Seeing the blanket where you’ll never curl up anymore. The spot on the sofa beside me that was yours, and that’s empty now. The fluff on my sweater.
Such a pain.
And your picky eating habits! You’d decide you loved a certain brand of food – until the next day, when you’d turn up your nose at it. And then sulk until I brought you something more to your liking.
Once you were lost for three days. I barely slept. Combed the neighbourhood for you, rang on every doorbell. Hung posters all over. Until you jumped in through the window in the middle of the night, complaining fit to wake the dead. As if it was my fault. But you forgave me when I fed you, brushed you, told you how much I’d missed you.
The pain was physical sometimes. Lying on my chest, with your claws carefully over the edge of the blanket – no matter how high I pulled it up – so you could sink them into my skin to the rhythm of your purrs. And you knew I’d never have the heart to stop you, not with your head pressed under my chin.
Or worse: lying stretched out along my leg, you’d sometimes reach out to wrap a paw around my foot. And then extend your nails into my sole. Who ever knew pain like existed?
And who could suppose that there was a pain even worse? The pain of seeing you suffer in your old age, the pain of watching the will to live seep slowly out of you. The pain of deciding to take you to the vet, of hearing the verdict.
The pain of saying farewell as you fell asleep. And the pain of returning home, alone, to a house that was devoid of your presence. Seeing the blanket where you’ll never curl up anymore. The spot on the sofa beside me that was yours, and that’s empty now. The fluff on my sweater.
Such a pain.
