Jasper (Madison Elizabeth Holland - Lafayette, LA)

I wailed at the sky, your broken lifeless bloody body in my arms. I had never faced grief before, not of this magnitude. You were my one great love, my wriggly, snuggly little spoon, the puppy I fell in love with at six weeks old and raised to adulthood. More often than not, I would feed you directly from my hand because you were my baby. Every night I held you close to me, my little spoon, your round little body nestling in the curve of my belly and hips, occasionally kicking me when I held you a little too close. You kept me alive when I wanted to die and holding you close to me helped the panic attacks subside when I knew no other way to stop them other than drugs, drink, or pain. You were my security blanket in a house that was never a home to either of us. In the midst of the screaming abuse I closed my eyes tightly, buried my face in your soft neck, and whispered that I would make us a home, a safe place, where we could be happy together forever. Its hard for me to put into words how much I love you. (Loved you.) You gave me the strength to leave, to say no more to the abuse, to take my destiny in my own hands and do what I needed to so that we could be free. I bought a little house with my savings, a little house with a big yard for my boy. I maxed out my credit cards to build you a fence so you could play all day while I was at work. We had each other, the cats, and your sister Rue. We had everything we needed, and more. Our house was full of love and peace. You gave me the courage to do what I couldn't for my own sake, but could for you. You entered my life during one of my darkest periods and became my shining star, my beacon of hope in the depths of my despair, the one being that truly made my life worth living. And then, you were gone. Brutally, violently. My fault. My fault. My fault. I rescued a beautiful dog to add to our family. I didn't know she was in heat and what that would mean for us, for you. I left that morning like I did every morning, giving you all kisses and letting you play in the backyard until I got home for lunch. Except that day things changed, and she killed you. Some dogs get violent when they go into heat and when she did, you bore the brunt of her violence, which continued to ripple throughout my life for months and months afterwards. I opened the gate and my girls came running, but you didn't. I called and called. You didn't come. I walked into the back yard and there you lay, still and silent. You were already cold, and your blood came away on my hands. That day, something broke inside me. I'm not normally someone who shows emotion readily but that day it poured out of me in a primal scream. I screamed at the sky and rocked you in my arms. Somehow I was able to call for help, though you were beyond anything anyone could do. I have never before felt that much pain and it exploded from my body in moans and howls while I cursed at god, the universe, whatever force that allowed this to happen. I don't like to revisit painful memories. I prefer to keep them buried, stored away where they will affect me the least. But for you, my darling angel boy, I will deep dive into my pain, because you needed my words to commemorate how truly special you were and how much you meant to me. They are the most precious monument I can construct for you. And my words seem to come most easily from my pain. I have the most visceral, tangible memories of you. If I concentrate I remember how your fur felt against my skin, how the weight of you lulled me to sleep every night. Your little nose in my face, begging for treats. Your little tail, betraying how happy you always were to see me. Your willingness to stay by my side through a multitude of abuse from my then-partner. Your furious walking pace, outstripping me easily with your short little legs. Your love for all living things, human, cat, or otherwise. You were the most gentle, frisky, loving soul, my constant and true companion. I write this for you, almost two years after you are gone. Your pictures are all over my little house. Your ashes are above my bed, surrounded by green growing things. Do you know I learned how to keep plants alive for you? Your pawprints in clay is the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see before I go to sleep. I don't dream of you much anymore but just knowing your essence is always nearby is a comfort. I try to be okay by telling myself that we only get to have angels grace our lives when we most need them, and that nobody would be deserving enough to have a dog like you around more than the two years I got with you. I will never stop saying your name. My forever Love.