During my Junior year of high school, I bought a dwarf african claw frog. Super tiny. Super cute.
His name was Froskur.
He's been there for the past 5 years, happily swimming around his tank and hanging out, and coming up to the front and looking at me when I'd be nearby.
After a period of sickness and deterioration as old age caught up with him, he died this morning. Even though it was "just a frog," I'm still pretty sad. He was my little friend, something consistent through a few years where it seemed like absolutely everything around me kept changing.