Death and Chocolate Ice Cream

To me, chocolate ice cream will always remind me of death. I think it goes back to my grandparents' wakes and funerals when I was in middle school. Their youngest grandchild and the most freakishly over-sensitive person you'll ever meet, I took their deaths really hard. Various family members took me away from the funeral home every couple of hours, and chocolate malts were my comfort food of choice. Ever since, I don't usually crave chocolate ice cream.

So, I probably should have realized the Universe was trying to send me a message when I inexplicably picked up a box of chocolate ice cream sundae cones at the grocery store tonight. I should have known something bad would happen.

Then I got home to find that my rabbit, Bonny the Bunny, had died. It's devastating to me. I don't care how stupid that sounds. Bonny was a good pet, and probably the sweetest and most docile creature God ever created.

I think Bonny loved me too much. I've had her since college, and she was really attached. She always got kind of sick and moody whenever I was gone for a weekend or a few days. When I left her in Wisconsin while I moved to Louisiana for Teach for America, she developed some rather serious health conditions that never really cleared up, even after I came back home.

The fact that she loved me so much is what troubles me the most. Because as any two-bit psychoanalyst or my mother could tell you, deep down I firmly believe that I don't deserve to be loved. This explains a lot about why I'm so drawn to people who treat me like crap. (But that's an entirely different blog.) It also explains a lot about my attachment to my pets. They love me, and though I don't understand that, it's wonderful. On the flip side, I can love them without feeling like a fool, which is equally wonderful for me.

Losing that is really hard.