My little pet is beguiling. I love it. I hate it. I fear and respect it. It drew me in at first, sweet, beautiful, but could bite if I didn’t meet its increasingly unreasonable demands. One night, as it lay next to me, it knew that I decided that it had to go. It began to pulsate, first very slowly, then picking up strength. I thought I was going to faint. My heart and pet began a terminal tango, each pumping wildly, pausing, undulating. Silence. My heart flat lined. Peace wafted over me as a cold breeze. My pet beamed.