Tag: Death

But not from my heart

you didn’t know we needed to
do a thorough walkthrough of your
apartment to make sure the
dog you say is dead is really… dead?
it’s in your lease–a clause; once your pet
has transitioned, in order to reverse any
pet rent fees, we have to verify what needs
to be verified.

silly me, here I was thinking the
receipt from the vet’s office with
the amount it costs for the
euthanasia services would be
enough. it’s not.
you actually want to come to
my unit, lay eyes on my private
space, and look for a being who
is no longer alive.

be my guest.

I’d say inconsiderate. I’d say insensitive.
but this feels like garbage–the icky
kind that bulges up at the
bottom of the bin and sticks to
the corners of it when the city comes to
dump the contents in their truck.
I comply.
after all, we must follow the rules.

I make the request to delete my
information from the PetSmart app, submit
my request to deactivate Chewy, and
issue a note to PetScreening that asks
you to select the reason the
account is no longer necessary.
“Jernee Timid has passed away.”
“I have re-homed Jernee Timid.”
“Jernee Timid has run away.”
“This profile for Jernee Timid is a duplicate.”
“I am no longer residing at the associated property.”

I select the first option.
I am prompted to confirm what I
have selected–make sure I’m not a robot.
I click submit and watch the words
flash across the screen regarding how
this company will make my apartment
community’s property manager aware of
the information I submitted to them.

everyone wants to be sure my baby
has zero breaths left…that
she really is taking a dirt nap,
and have I really lost the best
thing that has happened to my heart
since learning how to love?

I could not have prepared myself for
erasure of this magnitude.
Jernee’s not here, but she is.
Jernee’s not here, but she is.
Jernee’s not here, but everyone
believes that she is.

and my heart knows she is not.
but my heart has a special place
for her where she will always linger…
and the boot soles of capitalism may take her
away from me on paper, but they’ll never
strip her away from the lining of
a muscle that beats strongly for her
in life and in death.

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I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.