It's only been a couple of days since Gilda died, and I can't help but feel a little weird for being so emotional. I used to think people who obsessed over their pets were a little wacky. Now, I completely get it. While I didn't see my pet as my child, as some people do, she was family. It's this feeling of intense loss that leads cat ladies everywhere to take Fluffy VII to the taxidermist. We don't want to let go.
On the positive side, my (human) friends and family have been amazingly supportive. Everyone has a story about a beloved pet who has passed, and no one lets me feel crazy for missing Gilda so much. This is immeasurably helpful - otherwise I'd be locked up in my own neurotic head space, feeling alternatively stupid for caring and guilty for feeling stupid.
Today I even started singing again, which is a sure-fire indicator that the very worst of my emotional turmoil has passed. I'm not a good singer, but singing makes me happy (and vice versa). Of course, it reminded me of how I used to sing to Gilda. I'd always put her in the lyrics, like: "My Bunny Valentine" and "Hey, There, My Gilda." She would look up at me, nose twitching, with an expression that clearly said: 'What is that noise? Are you injured?'
*sigh* Good times, little bunny friend. Good times.