" Small Horse " Is Dead.

I've just got in, from discovering what I'd expected I would, just ten minutes ago. I'm about to drink more Jameson than I would normally dream. I just can't think of what else to do. Maybe cry? I should cry. They say ye should. " Let it all out. " they say. But, after nine days of having this dear little soul as not just part of my life, but virtually my Existence? Just seems too much to let out.

Tomorrow I must dig a big, deep hole. I have the tools. Pick axe bought especially for digging such holes. I've dug such holes before. I'll dig others yet.

Sorry her story has ended, before I even finished writing it. I will write it up though, later. I want to tell it like it was. I only wish I could have recorded the sweet little noise she made when she saw me appear each time though. I made the noise back and we were both happy. Communicating.

Only, tonight she was dead. We couldn't communicate any more.The only noise is inside my head.