11/27/2025
Dogs teach you the kind of love you will never forget. A gentle love. One that waits for you by the door. They watch you grow without ever saying a word. They know when to curl up close and when to let you fall apart. They sit at your feet on the days you swear you'll never beg for love again, tail wagging like they already believe in tomorrow. They stay with you on nights you cried on the floor and the mornings you decided to start over. One day, when you notice the grey on their face you'll realize your first real home was never really a place, but a heart beat that stayed.
365 days have gone by...I havent seen you, heard you, or felt you next to me. 365 days ago, heaven gained its strongest, bravest, best four legged angel at 3:21pm. 365 days ago was hands down the hardest day and loss I have ever endured. Jay passed very suddenly in my arms from a heart attack after playing ball, I held him as he took his last breath and hours after, not ready to say goodbye and in shock of it all. He was in PERFECT health, zero warnings. The loss of his physical existence is one I will never get over or used to. A year later, I still catch myself saying his name calling for him, still expecting his touch, his little quirks. He was glued to my hip, he was my protection I was never afraid as long as I had him. He was my entire world and then some. Everywhere I looked, he was there. Everywhere I walked, he was by my side. I will never get used to him not being here. But I am so thankful for all he left me with. The patience he taught me, reminding me to give myself grace, to trust my gut and make those scary leaps. The way he used to pick up anything I dropped, his sister Aspen does this and I see him in her EVERY time. The way he would press your nose on me and hold it there until you knew things were OK. The way he would goose people in the butt or crotch to say hello. How much he loved to swim and jump off the dock. Keeping pesky animals at bay. The way he whispered instead of big barked, especially when he wanted something. How he would roll on, growl at, play with smelly treats before enjoying them. His eagerness to learn anything and everything. Thank you for being the best part of my life for the short 8 years I had with you.
Forever missing you Jay Mason. ❤️