Friday was just like any other day. I went to work, I came home. I fed Rosie and played with Rowan. The family got together (well, four of us), and I went back to my place of work as a customer. It was quite a good evening.
When I got home again, everything changed.
Rowan was waiting for me to come home. She was dying.
I was beside myself. How could things change so drastically in such a short space of time?
She was tired. That is the only way I could describe her.
So I sat with her. It was the most difficult night I have in my memory.
She passed at 4.30am.
It hurts that she is gone. My last little baby. The friend who was always there to listen, and never answered back. Full of unconditional love.
My room is so quiet now. I hate it. No chats, no cuddles.
I'd like to get more company some time, but that all depends on the landlords. I don't hold out much hope.
I feel alone.
