Karma's Revenge

In sixth grade, the dog of my best friend, Kristen Maldonado, was run over by a garbage truck driver. Me, being the insensitive person I am, who is void of any feelings associated with loss or hurt, tried to console her. I tried to be the best friend I could because for some reason I was always worried about being a good friend. My house was a ten to fifteen minute walk from hers, but I'm not sure if I walked or asked my Mom to drive me. Well, I showed up at her house and her sobs were uncontrollable. Swollen with grief and gasping for breath, she listened to my empty words. I told her Ariel, the dog's name, was in a better place and that everything was alright. She'd be fine. This thought was anything but parallel to the thoughts that jogged across the screen of my mind. "She is such a drama queen. I swear she needs a psychiatrist." My thoughts. She was kind of psycho and a bit on the edge, but she was my friend and I had to do my job as her best friend. Her pink eyes begged to draw my true sympathy; and my eyes replied, "Get over it."
I called my Mom after sociology class today: "I hate to tell you this, but I lost Pepper." My utmost sincere thoughts were that she was lying, playing a joke on me. She wasn't. Soon after I spoke to my Mother, I visited Nisha's room. I slumped on her bed and as I began to let her know my situation, I was splurting. I have never laughed and cried at the same time. I felt like some hysterical mother character in some kidnapping movie. It was nostalgia, loss, and fear for his safety.
I was so excited that my Mom was bringing him to Austin and I even proclaimed it in my last post. My heart hurts. I've always given thought to the day that I lose Pepper, but I did not predict this effect. I guess I'm more of a wimp than I thought.