There's never been a point in my life that I didn't have animals. Dogs, horses, cats. Someone, or someones, has always been around. And like all living things, the animals in my life had to leave.
Most people get it. Maybe it's because most people have animals, too, or because most people have hearts, consciences or, at the very least, civility. When one of your pets leaves you, they send you support, empathy, again, at the very least, nice, good-mannered words.
Some people don't get it. And they will say to your face, "What's so sad? It was just a [cat, dog, fish, hamster, turtle, pony.] "
Just an animal.
In all my life, I say my father mad exactly twice. I've sort of inherited his long fuse. Oh, my feelings will get hurt, and I'll pout, and I get annoyed and frustrated to the nth degree, but anger? Not so much.
But this weekend, friends lost pets, and people had the nerve to say to me that they should get over it. Go to the pound and get another one. Be sad over real things.
If you don't understand it, don't comment on it. Keep your damn mouth shut.
And know that I am done with you.