I’ve spent most of my life ambivalent about pets. I got it from my mother—she straight-up hates them or at least hates the responsibility that comes with them.

Then I fell in love with a woman with an aging, expressive, small dog named Eddie, who always got in the way.

Eddie died not long ago. I called him Eddie Vedder.

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It’s been a long decline for him. He was going blind, and was often confused, and was sundowning. I’m pretty sure I took him for his last walk. We used to go blocks. Not anymore. He recognized the tree in front of the house, but not the house itself.

I didn’t realize the punch that pets pack. But I’m glad I felt it.

Rest in peace, Eddie Vedder.

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