Saying final goodbyes to pets

In the last ten years, half the time when I left my mother's place and saw the dogs staring at me, I would give what may be my final goodbyes and wondered if I would ever see them again. I am aware of mortality. Especially after one 3-5 year period of my life as a teenager in which, whenever I got back from vacation abroad, I would learn a pet or friend had died.

If it works for eggs.

Through my childhood and teenage years I had a bunk-bed to myself. I would sleep on the top bunk and use the bottom for storage, occasionally switching which bed had which purpose. The storage bunk had an egg-shell type of mattress topper, and I would store my souvenirs, knick-knacks, and miscellaneous items in individual depressions forming a grid. That is how I kept my stuff ordered and things where I could find them. I was probably using it as an auxiliary brain (like I use my phone these days) and storing items was the equivalent of storing things in my memories, I'd, merely have to look at or touch an item to bring back memories.