giving my blister away was prolly one of biggest regrets ever and now wondering if she even is still alive or not, well, that is what hurts me the most. it fucking eats at me. and i know she prolly ain't. for one she was inbred and for two she turned fucking twelve last november the 18th. i do not know the exact story of her conception, which brother fucked her mother and i'm glad, but she was the bestest dog ever and william dedicated his whole entire existence to her. when we got her- she was flea covered- had them in her eyes and everything. we rescued her. william fell hard for blister. she was so tiny. harry came home with chicken pox on november 4th that year and william and i got them two weeks later, the 18th, so when we found out she was born the same day we got chicken pox, william and i named her blister because it was either that or scab or scar and we thought blister fit her best. i had a dream about blister last night. i saw her face and she cried one last tear as she died right before my eyes. blister went from a blister to a scar. there was no scab i'm afraid.
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| i love you always |