Here is to Pinky, Here is to Nostalgia, And Here is to Death

Well, crap…

I haven’t been on in weeks and feel like I have been missing quite a fiasco of sorts (people lost blogs!!! Or something like that) well here I am, hello again and here is the crisis which as decided to strike my life! (not as excited as I let on)

To cap off I’m back in high school with a good kick in the ass, my parents want me to stay home for a year after I graduate and the only way to leave is to get enrolled in a good college with a good bit o money in my pocket whether it be scholarships, loans, or my own arm and leg (no pressure) so where does that leave me…. FREAKING OUT! But sadly that is not the fiasco that was previously mentioned, no that will be coming shortly, like in the next paragraph.

So many people all over the world own pets… and pets have life, so in turn they have an end… much like people. Well before now I have never been through what many call “the end all to end all” no I have always been the outsider watching and pondering at others quizzical emotional melt down at the end to a life. Well here it came, that mystifying death of a beloved animal, my family’s Chihuahua Pinky.
No to many a death of an animal means little and lets face it, it is true, in the huge scheme of things Pinky served no purpose he held was light as Milan Kondera would put it (google him and read his book, it is amazing) but whether he was light or heavy he was still a cute little bastard that would tug at your heartstrings with his sad pathetic (yet adorable) excuse for a bark.
What is death, the end, it has been around for as long as some sort of intellect has been around (death may have been before but lets face it if your dumb enough not to recognize death than whose to say it is there, we named it and made it so…) it goes by many names and has many preconceived notions about it.
Our dear Pinky died by the procedure called Euthanasia where they kill an animal without pain or horrid methods, just a simple needle prick and then wala the dog is completely at rest, though those that knew him are not. My sister and mother still cry at the most random times for him and even I am still affected by the those pangs of pain that come with his soft memory.
Though he gave berth to something in my mind, the thought of death, he gave me a gift, the reminder of my own mortality so in honor of me riding myself of his damaging blows (to my memory) and to collect him as a wonderful memory to induce a mystic nostalgia I want to explain death in my own mind, with you who ever reads this, and the others to follow, I may not be right but I will be conceivable. If that makes any sense. Here is to the Pinkds and to his memory, and to death. (raise nice crystal glass and drink)

“In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine.”
Milan Kundera