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loloteheI swear to god, I've had it with the grief-pimps.
A couple weeks ago, I announced on Twitter that Edgar had died. I did that to let the folks who I know personally on Twitter what was going on.
SADLY, it got retweeted with the tag #pawcircle (it has recently been deleted), which is apparently a thing.
THERE ARE PEOPLE ON TWITTER LOOKING FOR DEAD PETS.
I'm just going to let that sink in. There are folks out there with nothing better to do but seek out people who have lost a pet and offer a "gentle hug" via the medium of Twitter. They have found your grief, and they want a piece of it.
You know, I was on Twitter when my dad died and I don't recall this many random strangers coming out of the woodwork to tell me how sorry they are. And that's a death that was posted in the newspaper.
And then, this happened:
Pls honor me by using the whole word. #KTHNXBAI
I did not respond because this is CREEPY. Let me just remember and cherish my big guy for who he was. I don't know who gets off on this.
And then I found out who these people are. I had to go look up OTRB at one point and I hate that story. I got a copy of it (with some bad clip art) when my cat's cremains were delivered. I hate that story, and you know why?
OK, check out this clip. It's the good part of the movie.
Do you know why that scene works? Why you cry along when you're watching it?
YOU UNDERSTAND ENGLISH.
No, I am not going to follow you so you can direct message me. You replied to my mom talking about a movie, which is so out there and has nothing to do with that thing you do. You want me to become one of your followers so you can fly around and talk about how you're "honoring" me for having a dead cat. I have a dead cat. He's a lot smaller and drier than he was last month and I can hold him in one hand without him scratching the fuck out of my arm. I'm mad that I have a dead cat. I'm pissed that my cat is dead. I'm pissed that it happened as quickly as it did and I feel cheated. You want to honor me for hurting? Save the money you'd spend on fuel and go adopt a pet from a shelter that still kills them if they're too old or not cute enough. Help someone get their pet fixed so there are less of them.
I swear, if you'd ever been to the city dump on pound day, you'd know better. When you see a couple truck-loads of dead animals in a pile, it changes how you view your fucking rainbow bridge. Do something that will effect a change, for fuck's sake. I went to the city pound first and then the SPCA and I looked at the older cats first (all bigger than Elephi, sadly).
You flying around in a plane means nothing to me. You're not scattering the ashes. (Note to self: investigate local laws re. cremains. Possible business venture.) I'm not in the plane. The surviving cat isn't in the plane (she'd hate it anyway). I'm trying to see the point, but I don't want another piece of paper that says my cat is dead. I've got plenty as is.
I'm sure they're very well-meaning folks, but every time I see his name it just opens the wound again. He's not coming back and I miss him a lot. Right now, I really want to move on.
And later today, I'm going to the shelter to pick up Elephi's new buddy. And that little guy is going to be in the roomie's room for the first couple days, so everyone can get a little used to each other's smells under the door.
And you know what? The roomie even cleaned his room to make room. That room hasn't been cleaned in over a year, and there's floor in there now. Last time there was floor, Edgar ran in there and rolled all over it.
THAT is honor.
A couple weeks ago, I announced on Twitter that Edgar had died. I did that to let the folks who I know personally on Twitter what was going on.
SADLY, it got retweeted with the tag #pawcircle (it has recently been deleted), which is apparently a thing.
THERE ARE PEOPLE ON TWITTER LOOKING FOR DEAD PETS.
I'm just going to let that sink in. There are folks out there with nothing better to do but seek out people who have lost a pet and offer a "gentle hug" via the medium of Twitter. They have found your grief, and they want a piece of it.
You know, I was on Twitter when my dad died and I don't recall this many random strangers coming out of the woodwork to tell me how sorry they are. And that's a death that was posted in the newspaper.
And then, this happened:
@lolotehe Hello! I'm Sarah #TheAviator. I've been asked to honor U in our next mission. Pls contact me. Thx
— Sarah Szajnuk (@BlessedBeagle) September 29, 2013
Pls honor me by using the whole word. #KTHNXBAI
I did not respond because this is CREEPY. Let me just remember and cherish my big guy for who he was. I don't know who gets off on this.
And then I found out who these people are. I had to go look up OTRB at one point and I hate that story. I got a copy of it (with some bad clip art) when my cat's cremains were delivered. I hate that story, and you know why?
OK, check out this clip. It's the good part of the movie.
Do you know why that scene works? Why you cry along when you're watching it?
YOU UNDERSTAND ENGLISH.
@lolotehe Hello- I am Sarah #TheAviator. We want 2 honor Ur OTRB pal on our Oct 19th mission. Pls follow me so I can send U a Direct Message
— Sarah Szajnuk (@BlessedBeagle) October 1, 2013
No, I am not going to follow you so you can direct message me. You replied to my mom talking about a movie, which is so out there and has nothing to do with that thing you do. You want me to become one of your followers so you can fly around and talk about how you're "honoring" me for having a dead cat. I have a dead cat. He's a lot smaller and drier than he was last month and I can hold him in one hand without him scratching the fuck out of my arm. I'm mad that I have a dead cat. I'm pissed that my cat is dead. I'm pissed that it happened as quickly as it did and I feel cheated. You want to honor me for hurting? Save the money you'd spend on fuel and go adopt a pet from a shelter that still kills them if they're too old or not cute enough. Help someone get their pet fixed so there are less of them.
I swear, if you'd ever been to the city dump on pound day, you'd know better. When you see a couple truck-loads of dead animals in a pile, it changes how you view your fucking rainbow bridge. Do something that will effect a change, for fuck's sake. I went to the city pound first and then the SPCA and I looked at the older cats first (all bigger than Elephi, sadly).
You flying around in a plane means nothing to me. You're not scattering the ashes. (Note to self: investigate local laws re. cremains. Possible business venture.) I'm not in the plane. The surviving cat isn't in the plane (she'd hate it anyway). I'm trying to see the point, but I don't want another piece of paper that says my cat is dead. I've got plenty as is.
I'm sure they're very well-meaning folks, but every time I see his name it just opens the wound again. He's not coming back and I miss him a lot. Right now, I really want to move on.
And later today, I'm going to the shelter to pick up Elephi's new buddy. And that little guy is going to be in the roomie's room for the first couple days, so everyone can get a little used to each other's smells under the door.
And you know what? The roomie even cleaned his room to make room. That room hasn't been cleaned in over a year, and there's floor in there now. Last time there was floor, Edgar ran in there and rolled all over it.
THAT is honor.
