A few weeks ago, I went to Gerald's to see my boy, Patch. I didn't cry when I got there, like I thought I would. He had gotten bigger! When he came over to me, he wasn't sure at first. Then after a quick sniff of my hand, he wanted to climb up my leg. Of course I picked him up, and cuddled him for quite a bit.
I went up on the hill where Gerald's dogs exist, and petted them too. Shelby was very happy to see me. The only one I didn't go see was Gimpy the cow. We called her Gimpy because she had been injured and walked kind of crippled.
I had left some DVD's at Gerald's. So he and I went in the house to get them. Among his stuff, Gerald has a beautiful house. When I walked in I was struck by an awful odor. As if he hadn't flushed the toilet in three weeks. When I lived there, the house didn't stink. At the time, I couldn't figure out what the smell was. After a couple of days I realized the odor was the smell of dead. Gerald's house was dead. There was no soul. No life in it. How sad is that?