September 2024. My dog noticed that my keyboard had stopped clicking. Not just for a moment — but with the finality of a man who had run out of things to say that mattered. From the hallway, the click, click, click of Paco’s toenails on the hardwood floor grew louder as he approached. He stopped in the doorway and stared at me with that “it’s time to go” look that he had given me a thousand times before. But this time was different, and he knew it.