Biscuit

Biscuit never wanted to greet you empty-mouthed — there was always a tennis ball or a knotted rope pressed proudly into your hand the moment you crossed the threshold, his whole back half swinging with the joy of the offering. He knew Barton Springs the way locals know their favorite table — where the water was coolest, which angle to launch from, how long he could paddle before someone finally coaxed him back to shore. For 14 years, Austin was a little warmer for having him in it, and every stranger who bent down to scratch his ears left feeling, somehow, like they'd been welcomed home. He slipped away peacefully, surrounded by the people he spent a lifetime making sure always felt loved.