I will remember the little wooden blades that snuck out of her fur the most, and how in nature, they would’ve held purpose, to protect her, fury swords, but here, in the mansion, they inhibited her, shocked her with every step toward the window, toward the days. I FELT that. I will try and forget the frantic dash from entrance to exit, screaming for assistance, for mercy, as her head spun, North East South West, Never Eat Soggy Wheaties, and the final lull that dripped as we unwrapped her to find her legs pointed straws. I will try and forget that she snapped her own spine, refused to replenish, and left, without a nudge. I wouldn’t ask Teresa to understand, but, there was three pounds of me in that four, a safe reminder to stay present, keep my instruments well oiled, and look out for the helpless things.