Toast passed away last December when I was out of town, two days after our latest vet had told me he felt optimistic about her health, despite a recent diagnosis of pulmonary hypertension. On a Saturday night at 9 p.m., she vomited blood, laid down, and closed her eyes. She didn’t want me to be with her when she went, and I will have to put faith in the universe that there were reasons for that. Although she was loved by people all over the world, she was also my dog. I loved watching her run into the building after walks (especially because she refused to actually walk on them). She made me laugh every day, whether it was finding her snacking on a roll of toilet paper she dragged in from the bathroom, or snoring so loud I would have to move rooms if I was on a call.