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February 11, 2009
Tomorrow it will be one year since the last time I saw Taxi alive, and I can barely stand the thought. So of course that's all I'm thinking about, because for some masochistic reason I need to not only wiggle the loose tooth but to yank it from the gum, exposing the root to the sharp bite of frigid air that rushes to fill the void.

I cannot believe a year has already passed since I stroked his paw and kissed his head who knows how many times and told him I would see him tomorrow. Thinking I actually would.