You want to know what that big fur ball did to me? I'll tell you because I can't do a thing about it now either way. He made me his favorite. He spent time he didn't have on me. He thought of me constantly and never gave up on me. He gave me almost everything I ever asked for and you want to know the worst thing of all? That son of a bitch made me love him. Yeah, and it hurts more than anything. They make love out like it's some sort of magic joy ride, but it's work, it's pain, and it's suffering. It makes me worry about him, and it makes me listen to his nonsense, not only listen to it but care about it. It makes me strategize and plan for him in every possible way. It makes me want to help him in any way I can. It makes me work hard with all my sisters to meticulously glue that broken Fabergé Bear back together again. And most of all it makes me proud of him when he triumphs over the impossible with our help. It gives me purpose. I'm never going to forget what he did, and I'm never going to forgive him for it either. Instead I'll bide my time, doing all I can to set him up perfect, then when he least suspects it, I'll do the same to him and I'll enjoy every minute of it.