They Don't Make Them Like That Anymore

Today was a tragic day, as far as any day goes. For today I said goodbye to my refrigerator, they don't make them like that anymore, it has been with me for years, practically my whole life and today I had to tell it I was leaving it for a younger model. You may think me foolish, but I loved my fridge, it held for me the essentials of life, food, and I value that. I didn't want to replace it, I'm sure it would be good for another 20 years, but those who share this spacious dwelling with me insisted. I didn't go with them when they bought it, I could not betray my old faithful fridge, I could not let it see that I was conspiring against it, and housemates brought back a giant. The new fridge towered above my old little companion, it was huge, one of the cupboards had to be removed so we could fit it in the kitchen, I'll bet my old fridge felt so small and insignificant, a tiny David compared to this new Goliath. Now my old little fridge is almost bare, only my chocolate supply remains to give him purpose. The light no longer works, but I can feel my way, it was always a surprise, taking something out, you'd never know what you'd get for dinner, the seal had slightly broken, but any bugs that crawled in soon died from the cold. The tray underneath had never been emptied, I only found out about its existence yesterday. There were mice corpses stuck to back of it, most of them a little singed, but hey that was a warning for other mice. It was originally white, but over the years I'd drawn on it, spilt food and beverages on it, heck I'd even painted a frieze on it at one point. And now I stand before it, I can feel its pain; we both know what fate is waiting for it. It was with heavy head I bent and grasped my chocolate bar, making the fridge obsolete, it was clean, cleaner than it had been it a long time, or maybe just the fact that it was empty gave it that effect. I closed the door and looked at the brand of the fridge, it was a Leonard, for as long as I live I will never forget that name, the name of my fridge, although I'd always called him Leo, I'd not forget.
The new fridge is big and holds so much more, but where is the familiar, where is the comfort, I've found a good home for Leo, one where he can run for another twenty years in peace, without fear of rejection, And I'm pretty sure that long after this new fridge is busted and sent to the tip, my Leo will still be going strong, that is my comfort. No, they don't make them quite as good as Leo anymore.