I was totally sitting down to write an article about suicide. About how, without a doubt, someone you love, at some point in your life, is going to kill themselves. I was going to tell you how there is LITERALLY nothing you could do to change that, and to just steady yourself for it a bit makes the impact less world-shattering. I was prepared to fill you in on statistics, and let you know that thirty-eight percent of all car accidents are actually suicide attempts. But then I remembered that I asked you if you could kill a kid yesterday. You can’t follow-up a “Could you kill a child” article with a “someone you love will inevitably kill themselves” article, because that is just too heavy. So I decided, last-minute, to make this an article full of cute ass puppies, lest someone call me and ask if I need a hug. Which, by the way, I do. Honestly, you gotta give the masses a moment to “squee” now and then, lest you lose them to the darkness.