2005-05-13 - 10:14 a.m.

Fozzie died back in February, and I am just now finding out about it.
Fozzie is our dog back in California. He was 14 when he passed away, and my parents saw fit to keep that information from us until Bor got home so that they could spare our feelings.
What sheer absolute drivel.
Of course they also told my brother, when he got home, that Fozzie had "run away."
When are they ever going to learn about human beings? I could ahve understood this behavior if I were eight. But both my brother and I are far past that now.
This feels like jsut another trespaass. In fact, I'm having a hard time separating the occurence of Fozzie's death from being pissed at my parents on so many levels.
So strange.

 

 

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