The Licker.

It’s his name now.

The Licker.

It’s who he is, now.

He’s been licking his paws as a way to pass time for a while now. It’s a nasty habit, but I’m not there to watch him while I’m at work. He does what he does.

The Licker.

Pickles.

He’s 13 now, or will be by the end of the month. His birthday is sometime during August, so I celebrate it at the beginning.

13.

91.

Old Man Pickles.

He’s still good though. He still has his personality and he’s a lot like me. He’s a fucker a lot of the time when he doesn’t listen, but that’s me too.

I can’t blame him. He’s been with me for most of his life, he’s bound to pick up some of my nasty habits too.

It is what it is.

I hope he lives for a long long time.

He’s my copilot, my soulmate.

To lose him, it would be unbearable.

My heart has a limited capacity for love and Pickles takes up a large portion of it.

Pickles.

My love. My soulmate.

My life saver.

Happy birthday.

Thank you for being in my life.

Thank you.