Top Sturgery…

I'm at a :.|:; for words.

GEHEHEHEHE im never gonna get over that <333

Today it is Monday, August 26, 2024. At 17:28 CST, Crosby was put down.

He died in the arms of my dad and I.

A year or so ago, he suffered an injury to his spine. We never really figured out what it was, or at least I didn’t, but his back legs began to atrophy. Over time, his ability to walk decreased steadily until we had to use a harness to move him around.

The past few days, he hasn’t been eating anything. We’ve tried feeding him chicken, cheese, popcorn, chips, dog treats, anything to try and get him to eat. Nothing worked. He drank water slowly, and occasionally ate crushed ice cubes. He was laying around all day, and we’ve had to change his positions for him. He was skin and bones, his spine, ribs, hips, and skull visible through his fur. His nose was dry for several days. On Saturday I got the news that this might be my last weekend with him. He had become so miserable and there was nothing we could do. The car ride to the vet, I held him in my lap so he could look out the open window because he was too weak to support himself.

He was an amazing dog. We got him when I was in second grade, and he’s lived about twelve long years. He was a rescue from a shelter where I used to live, we got him because he was insistent on following me even though he was terrified whenever I looked at him. Despite this, he was such an affectionate and caring dog.

We never knew his breed. The DNA gave us husky, coon hound, and poodle, though he looks more like a black lab and a Great Dane mixed together. His black fur became dotted with browns as he grew up, the white T-shape on his chest reminding us of our last dog, Touchdown, who passed shortly before we got him. He met our other dog at the time, Fumble, though they didn’t know each other very long.

I grew up with Crosby. He’d always paw at us whenever he wanted to be pet more. He’d howl and yell whenever we did. He wasn’t the best with other dogs, and it took him a second to warm up to people, but he would lean on your leg once he got used to you. He’d stand by the table as we ate dinner, his eyes always trained on the food we sometimes dropped. He used to hop our four-foot fence without so much as a running start. His legs were so long and he loved to run. He’d kiss you even after you asked him to stop. He loved the snow and would even try and eat it when there was hardly any on the ground. He loved my dad so so much.

I want to thank the Lord for giving me such an amazing companion for so long. I pray that he feels fulfilled and happy with his life, and that he knows how much we love him. I pray that he will be free of his pain as he leaves. I pray that when he gets to heaven, Fumble will introduce him to Touchdown, and he can finally meet the dog that was taken from us so suddenly by cancer. I pray he will be able to run as much as he wants and bark at all the other dogs up there and he might finally be able to socialize.

I’m so thankful for him. I will miss him.

At least I know that his fur will always be knit into my clothes, no matter how much I try to wash it out.

I am losing my fucking mind.

Adding onto this because it’s on my mind

I’ve had confused feelings about my gender for a long time. I remember when I was 8-9 ish, when my mom told me that I would Get Boobs, I cried. I literally wept in the backseat of our old mustang in the drive thru lane of the Chick-fil-A. Maybe it was because I wasn’t ready to grow up, but even now I haaaaate having breasts. I remember hoping that they would stop growing as I got older. I remember wishing my period would never come. I got it at 10

I also remember thinking about growing facial hair and getting excited. I actively try to have a more neutral voice. I cover my body because I’m ashamed of being a woman because of how terribly we’re treated in general. Maybe politics has something to do with it, but that’s a separate tangent

It’s weird though

I want breast reduction surgery, but I don’t want them gone completely

I want to go on hormones, but I don’t want to change completely

I hate having a uterus, but I don’t want it replaced, just gone

I don’t mind she/her pronouns, and I call myself a lesbian all the time, but my connection to my femininity is so severed by so much

I don’t shave my legs but I shave between them and under my arms because otherwise I’m uncomfortable with myself

I don’t consider myself non-binary or trans, but I don’t think I’m cis, either

And while labels don’t define everyone and everything and you don’t need one, I want to be able to explain what’s going on in my head and with my body image. I want to point to a flat and go “that’s how I feel and those are my people,” y’know?

Not a vent, just an observation

Hold on. Cisgender people don’t question their gender?

How has nobody done the ship of Theseus for the “despite everything it’s still you” meme

HELP

I had to illustrate this creature to show you the absolute state of it

Staring. Full eye contact. Tongue wrapping around the opposite side of her leg