#if he plays Easier To Love You in march i'm not gonna survive

[halcyoncyrus]

new porter robinson album hurts in a way i really wasn't expecting it to

[the-radio-demon-blog]

Alastor, my last rat just died today while I was holding her. 😢 I thought she would go this weekend, but it's still always a shock somehow. I'm glad I could be with her.

I know hugs are out, but can you tell me a story to distract me? I don't care what it's about.

This is her. Peach.

https://imgur.com/a/X6VszJ5

🐊

My apologies I couldn’t answer this sooner, sweetheart.

I’m not quite sure if I am the best person to look for comfort in but I will try my best. A story you say? I’m terrible at them. Hah. Hmm…

I’m not quite sure if I am the best person to look for comfort in but I will try my best. A story you say? I’m terrible at them. Hah. Hmm…

My father when I was much younger took me to meet my ailing grandfather far too long ago. I remember very little about my grandfather. But the small things I remember. The way his hands would shake. That thick accent of his that I listened to grumble on for hours. His mind was slowly fading when I first met him and it eventually died as most things do.

It was a silly story he told me a few times. A story he repeated over and over again due to his dying mind. His voice would croak out some song that I do not remember. But I do remember one thing: the story that would follow.

It was a gloomy day, soft green grass crunching underneath the children’s feet as they played. The play only stopped when a young boy heard a small sound, a yelp he thought was coming from the school house bridge. Belaying the other children’s warnings of venturing under the bridge the boy followed the sound. His classmates staggered behind him nervously as the sound became louder.

Drowning in the churning river was a small helpless greyhound puppy whining for help. The boy without thinking dove into the water, swimming desperately after the yelping pup. His classmates yelled after him but despite it all the boy took the weak little puppy in his arms and crawled out of the river.

The puppy was weak. Far too weak to survive on its own. The children marched to the small schoolhouse, the shivering dying puppy in the boy’s arms. The teacher refused to let the thing in but the children pushed their way through to the Principal’s office.

The Principal was about to bite into his sandwich as the children burst through the door. Over the hubbub the boy shouted,

“He’s dying.” The little puppy whimpered and the Principal sighed. “Can you…” the boy nodded in the direction of the Principal’s sandwich. The Principal grimaced.

“He’s gonna die anyway…” A nasty child shouted from the back and the children shoved him out of the room. After much pestering, the puppy was curled up in front of the fireplace munching on the sandwich.

And so the puppy was dubbed the name: Master McGrath. Due to a stubborn boy and his classmates a weak runt was allowed to blossom. Little did any of the children know that they had saved a legend. A weak puppy that would grow up to become one of the greatest dogs of hare coursing. Bringing glory and honor to his small country. Despite being an underdog in a very literal term, despite the boy pleading for the adults not to put down the weak dog, Master McGrath prevailed.

Again, it’s not a significant story but it meant something to my grandfather. I’ve found it’s more listening to a story than the story itself that made itself special. And I’m sure my grandfather fibbed the majority of it. That is not what matters.

I am truly sorry for the lost of your pet, Peach. I do hope she is in a better place now. Losing a loved one never gets easier, does it?