My little Darwin is dead. He died in his sleep. I woke up and he was in his typical sleeping position on his sofa. I called to him to come with us, go out and play. He did not respond. I thought he was being moody. I went and gently put my hand on his head, and asked him to come, he didn’t respond. He looked so alive. But I have felt death before, it feels very different to the touch. Still, I thought I was being paranoid, crouched on the ground, as I often do, so that my eyes were at his level. Then I saw it. There was no mistake. My little Darwin was dead. He had died in his sleep. I am in shock. I found him a nice space in the forest nearby, out in the open, the feel of mud, leaves, sky. I sat with him. His tongue had turned so purple. I never can get used to the metamorphosis. Alive. Dead.