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Jasper, America’s dog, died at 12:40 p.m. on Saturday, September 4, 2021. He was nine years old. Though I’ve cried and felt the rolling waves of the first stage of grief for the first two days without him, I don’t think it really hit me until 3:08 a.m. on September 6th.
I woke up because it was too quiet. Even when Jasper was sound asleep, he had a presence. I tried going back to sleep – I prayed, breathed, and begged for a bit more rest. It wasn’t happening. Finally, trying not to wake Peter, I decided to just get up and write it all down.
When I came downstairs, I could feel Jasper everywhere. This was his house. We were just living in it.
I grabbed my laptop and swallowed a couple of bites of Greek yogurt to coat my stomach before having a cup of English Breakfast Tea. I went to set the bowl down for Jasper to find when he woke up. I liked to leave him a little surprise. I caught myself before the bowl hit the floor and placed it in the