Jobu made it to 2020. It hasn’t been that weird with him gone. I think it’s because we moved six months ago. I don’t associate many places in this house with Jobu. I expect his fuzzy head to come sticking up from the stairs when I come in the front door. I expect him to be following me into the kitchen to beg for food, and I expect him to be a little sleeping ball in his bed.
The sweet thing was that the worse he felt the more he wanted to snuggle with me. He spent the entirety of his last night laying against me.
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