Even though I lay dying on the ground, bleeding from so so many little wounds, my compassion still creeps back to life, and I want to care. I can't let that happen, I did nothing wrong, I was killed for no reason, except perhaps the enjoyment of others, and still I find myself thinking of making peace before the end. Why can't I truly hate, or at least simply not care.
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Not sure what sort of cartoon you were wanting, but I did a little pencil drawing in memory of sweet Gabby for you. Unfortunately my best attempt came out on a scrap of paper but it looks pretty decent in a frame. I'll send you a pic in a pm. Tell me where to send it.