The measure of love is love without measure. (St. Augustine)
I'm not Catholic, but the dogs love people as St. Augustine that was love. Clarify: "as I said St. Augustine should be loving, very different from saying, "as he loved St. Augustine." Anyway ...
This introduction is totally out of place, what we really want to say is I miss my dog \u200b\u200bwho died few months. Those who know me and I have seen in a long time I ask my dog, do so because it is the equivalent of asking me about my family or my daughters, is a sign of respect. And now the Fluff is dead. There a tale of Rubem Fonseca called Betsy describes an absence, said: "... the house had never been so empty and sad ...", the end you find out that Betsy , the deceased, is the dog the protagonist.
This introduction is totally out of place, what we really want to say is I miss my dog \u200b\u200bwho died few months. Those who know me and I have seen in a long time I ask my dog, do so because it is the equivalent of asking me about my family or my daughters, is a sign of respect. And now the Fluff is dead. There a tale of Rubem Fonseca called Betsy describes an absence, said: "... the house had never been so empty and sad ...", the end you find out that Betsy , the deceased, is the dog the protagonist.
So now my house feels very empty and very sad, and difficult to hit the streets knowing that the world is a more desolate and horrible and cruel without the Fluff, a faithful dog and a good and brave as me cared for 16 years, from before puberty to my twenties. I was not a good master but she wanted, almost no master falls short of their dogs.
The Fluff has died and I am devastated, maybe I should die over the country, full of vulgar and violent people, 50 million Mexicans together are not worth what it was worth my dog. I was wondering I had a girlfriend: "Why did you tell your dog" my love "and I do not ?"... for obvious reasons as silly ... and my dog \u200b\u200bwith me and cared for when I finished with the only girl I loved, I was at my feet when I saw the window of my room flirting, but I was so tired that I could not even lift, there was the Fluff.
But Fluff is not here, not in heaven or anywhere else. On the other hand I do that I am at home, with an irreplaceable part me irretrievably severed. I'm going down to smoke a cigarette, I'll dry your eyes, I do not see me as well.
But Fluff is not here, not in heaven or anywhere else. On the other hand I do that I am at home, with an irreplaceable part me irretrievably severed. I'm going down to smoke a cigarette, I'll dry your eyes, I do not see me as well.
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