Self Accusatory Hi Jinks

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Mingo's death, of which I am totally responsible, has been a source of great sadness for me.  Should I have let him live a bit more?  Should I have tried the drugs?  Everyday Mingo would crawl up into my lap, and burrow his face under my arm while I stroked and massaged him.  He would purr fit to beat the band.
This pic was drawn solely to get my ass in gear, art wise.  It has many problems, but I need to start trying harder and every day at that.  
Mingo is in my parent's backyard, along with with Jango.  I inspect their graves every day.  The fence was destroyed during Harvey, and there are dogs around.  How odd to stand so close to him and know that he is not my cat anymore.  But he is not there, and is now in a meadow with friends and fat mice.  
I wonder if I will be allowed to see him again.  He was a great cat, and I am a bad...er... bunny.
My artistic ability is fading, and I can only watch.  Flowers for Algernon and all that.
I am the Demolished Man.

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