mocha died. i buried her under the mulberry tree in the backyard. (what is this? i have a backyard?? and it has fruit trees??)
for the uninformed, mocha was my pet of two years. so named for her white color (i know, i'm a walking hyperbole), she was quite possibly the sweetest hamster ever to exist. she enjoyed finding new and interesting ways to run on her wheel (such as on top of it), having her ear scratched, wheat things, and crawling up suzanna's sleeve. i liked her very much. be one with the earth now, mocha.
what the hell, dude? most of the ten most frequently occurring words in my journal are articles and prepositions. how fucking uninventive am i? (though it does charm me to notice that the word "fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck" appears in amber's journal 6 times.) anyway, that was most interesting.
nine days until amber. i miss her terribly, and she's showing signs of wear. she needs a vacation where she can be free and spoiled and held and made love to and absorbed in silliness and. and. i can't wait to see her.
whoops. two more "ands" for my word count.
this could become an obsession most unholy.