Over the last year or so, our dear buddy Cracker — our OG baby, Morrison’s best friend and caretaker before I stepped into the roles — has slowly been on the decline. Despite FOUR TIMES THE RECOMMENDED DOSE OF ANESTHESIA he refused to be sedated so that the vet could check him out. Last week, after one INCREDIBLY metal moment in which he basically performed his own dental work, we were finally able to confirm that he had a tumor spreading throughout his gums. We said goodbye this morning. He left this world doing what he loves: eating an ice cream Snicker’s bar from Morrison’s hand, then HISSING AT AND CLAWING SKIN from the lovely retired Vet who came to put him down when she tried to give him the shot, then being fiercely cuddled. I don’t have anything new or profound to offer about saying goodbye to a pet, but I just want to remember how after our first miscarriage when I didn’t want to get out of bed, he came to me and just laid by my face and purred, because he just knew, because animals Know, and they don’t ask us to talk about it, and they don’t try and talk us out of how we Feel, they just lay there, and they Know. RIP buddy.