The world tips on its axis and the only thing that can save it is birdsong. Today marks three months since Pacquito transitioned to the beyond, and though I'd like to say that I am devastated, because that's what projections of grief call for, I am not. I have, though, been cracked wide open, heart and spirit. All the time and everywhere I go, I hear the birds sing. In the backyard where Pacquito is buried, the sound has become almost the same as silence, as familiar and

Sort of suddenly, sort of not (for a nearly 18-year-old Chihuahua with a few progressive illnesses), Pacquito left his body around 11pm on December 29, 2025. The last taste on his tongue was a drop of honey. I had been agonizing and crying and grieving for the three days prior. He's fallen ill before, and it really has been in his nature to ding-dong-ditch Death's door. This time felt a bit different, especially given his age. I still hoped he may bounce back. It wouldn't hav

The human head weighs roughly ten pounds. Some say the true number lies between five and eleven pounds, within which ten falls, so there's that. I don’t know how much of that exact weight is up for debate, but either way, the human head weighs more than Pacquito’s entire being. This I know to be true. Or do I? I’ve been thinking about what I truly know versus what I only think I know—what I’ve read, overheard, absorbed. J often reminds me of this idea: we talk about drink