I know it's only been a day, but life has been so hard without Honey. It almost seems surreal, like this is all a bad dream and I'm going to wake up soon. The last two days I've felt incomplete as if a huge chunk of me is missing. I've had this constant "nan guo" feeling that I can't get rid of. She has been my thought every hour, every minute, and every second. She was my worst habit. Whenever I came home, it was my instinct to pick her up from the garage and carry her to my bed. When she was still healthy enough to run around, she would just be waiting by the door. When I opened it, she would immediately run up the stairs to my room. I was with her practically 24/7. It's so strange now that she's not here.

I'm making an album and keepsake box dedicated to her, and picking up a bountiful 150+ worth of pictures at Walgreens tomorrow. As I was going through digital and tangible photo albums, I couldn't help but cry. There were some memories that I didn't even remember about her hiding within the photographs. I can't believe I had her for so long. Since I was seven years old. We were both babies! She lived a good and long life. I just need to learn to let go now.

I remember so many details about the first day we got her. I even remember the details of the breeder's house--the driveway, the front door, the living room, etc. We almost bought her brother. I insisted that we buy her. What a spoiled child I was. :P I remember the car ride home (actually we were going to my uncle's house). I remember watching her in the small travel size cage and trying to decide what to name her. I remember stopping by a petstore to buy some dog food and other necessities. I even remember I came up with the name "Honey" when we were at Burger King a few weeks before we got her. I remember the exact booth we sat at. My brother wanted to name her Licky. Thank goodness we didn't.

I remember the first night she stayed in our house. We kept her in our downstairs bathroom and covered the entire floor with newspaper. She was so small. We put a retractable fence/door at the entrance so she wouldn't escape. Before I went upstairs to sleep I poked my finger through the fence and pet her and told her not to be scared. In the middle of the night I heard her whining from being lonely so I ran downstairs despite the fact that I was terrified of the dark. I climbed over the fence and hopped into the bathroom. I stepped in her poop. I remember sitting on the sink counter washing my feet thinking, "It's ok, it was worth it."

I miss her so much...