Let me spell it out for any “Plant Parents” who are reading: A cactus is biologically programmed to suffer. To endure the elements in stoic silence. To fight and fail. To overcome. You took this hardened survivalist, this apex of evolution, named it Lulu, and stuck it in a pot shaped like a unicorn. You read it poetry and watered it at the slightest whisper of a wrinkle. Then you watched, helpless, as it slowly died of shame.