Life in Hell is over, amongst other sad things of late.

58. The First Days – Rhiannon Frater

This book reminded me greatly of another zombie novel – Autumn by David Moody. If you liked Autumn and its inability to bring anything new and/or interesting to the world of zombies, you will enjoy The First Days. Oh look, it’s someone who is a tad shellshocked (and her name isn’t Barbara) and wearing inappropriate clothing for running away forever (she may or may not be missing her shoes). And there, over there, it’s someone who lost their girlfriend and watched her re-animate and come after her! They make it to a sporting goods store run by totally not the couple from Tremors because the wife is a former sniper, what a shocking development. Shock me shock me shock me with that deviant storytelling. Wait, are they going to adapt and yet make terrible decisions to retrieve people who should be left behind and then find a group of survivors trying to build some semblance of a protective society only to be slightly undermined by some random power struggle and some dude going nutballs? Nnyayybe. Sometimes, there are novels that seem to prove that nothing more can really be said about rising plagues of the undead. I do believe and wish upon a star that I will find more zombie stories that deviate enough to achieve greatness, perhaps Jiminy Cricket will help me out when he stops helping that jerk Pinocchio. I hate Pinocchio. I even read the book and I still hate it.

Anyway, I didn’t start this to discuss Pinocchio, who sucks. I started this because The First Days includes people who’ve lost loved ones, as all zombie stories do, and two of the methods of coping with losing loved ones – shock and moving on. I lost my little Belvedere this past weekend and I am a little angry with myself for choosing the moving on option. He had a saucy combination of everything that killed his two sisters and I did every possible thing to make him more comfortable while I didn’t know exactly what was going on. I gave him all of the treats that he wasn’t supposed to have repeatedly in the three days before he passed as well and I guess that’s part of why I can move on. When you do everything you can and you know you’re not half-assing there’s nothing to regret. I miss my little man and these are my first days without him and they do in fact suck, but checking out mentally is not going to help my living piggies. Bel lived his entire life with me and I’ve always been super proud of his slightly vindictive nature.

Say goodbye to the little Bel tree.

 

My favorite photo of Bel and his glorious sister Pickles. What’s a little face-nibbling between siblings?

 

One of the few photos where the little siblings were getting along – Morty using Duncan as a head rest, Pickles, and Belvedere and his little white pants. My little family, minus their mother Murderface, who finally got a chance to relax.

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