I picked up Jedi's ashes from the UPS center in Cerritos on December 4. I opened the package at Leigh Ann and Kevin's that evening. His ashes were a mix of white dust, sand, and rock. They're all I have left of him.

Sometimes I talk to his ashes, which sit in a plastic box on my dining table. I tell him goodnight. I tell him to be a good boy when I leave.

I still walk through my front door and look down at the floor to find him waiting for me. When I get a text message and my phone vibrates I expect the noise to startle him. When I am lying in bed and facing one way, I think he is on the other side of me. But he is not here anymore. I still can't believe it.

Tonight I brought home groceries for the first time since Thanksgiving. For the first time in two years of living together, he wasn't here to inspect the bags for any food that might be his.

When I cry, my nose gets stuffy, and then I get mild panic attacks, because I imagine Jedi's last moments, how he couldn't breathe, and how I wasn't there to help him.

Jedi, I'm so sorry.

On Thanksgiving Day, my best friend passed away. Jedi was with me for nearly four years, and when we were together, he was almost always within hugging distance. From waking up to lying down, and between each room in our apartment, he stayed with me wherever I went. Even at the beach—his favorite place where he could run and swim--he always checked to make sure I was close by. He also liked for people to stay together. On hikes with friends, he’d bark at those who were too far ahead and at those who were too far behind. At home, he wanted to be wherever I was at. He’d sit at my feet while I cooked or washed dishes; he’d watch me exercise in our living room; he’d lie down next to me as I worked or read; he’d visit the bathroom with me and watch me cleanse. Jedi invaded my personal space and gave me permission to invade his. What was mine was also his. My friends were his friends. My bed was his bed. My socks and underwear were his toys.

I decided on the name “Jedi” because—although I was very far from identifying as a Star Wars fan—I understood Jedis to represent good things such as loyalty, guardianship, athleticism, and intelligence. I thought those qualities also marked the kind of dog I wanted to raise. Jedi was the last puppy left from his litter of yellow labs, so when the breeder brought him out along with nearly a dozen chocolate labs, I understood why. He was crazy. He was so crazy. The Force was too strong with this one. But my mind was also settled. I wanted a yellow lab, so I picked him and drove us home as he sat in a carrier in my passenger seat. I still remember the boisterous cries as we left the place where he lived the first eight weeks of his life. I tried petting him, talking to him, and scanning through different radio stations to soothe him. He wouldn’t stop wailing. It wasn’t until I started to sing the hymn “Jesus Paid It All” when he calmed down, fell asleep, and stopped crying. Then I started crying. It became his naptime and bedtime song.

Jedi lived a life full of play, full of sleep, and especially full of food. Every morning he’d lick my face, tap me with his paws, and/or cuddle and stare at me face to face until I got out of bed, because it was his “mum-mum-time” (time to eat). Once I got out, he’d hop twice and launch his entire body into the air because he was so happy about breakfast. When I’d come home from work, he’d excitedly greet me before I pause and ask, “Is it… time? Is it Jedi’s mum-mum-time?” Then he’d sprint to his dog bowl, repeat his hop and launch routine, and patiently sit with his tail wagging, while I poured the kibble, until I gave the okay to eat his dinner. On nights when I cooked, he sat and waited for me to hand him vegetables like carrots and broccoli. As an adult, he maintained a healthy weight of seventy pounds.

Jedi exuded so much life, energy, and happiness. He loved walks and would bring me his leash whenever he wanted to go outside. Sometimes during our walks, he’d lunge at people, jump on them, and even scare them, and I’d apologize and explain that “he’s actually really friendly, just very aggressive about it.” He was also very naughty too. He’d steal a sock from my drawer or from my laundry basket and dangle it from his mouth in front of me so that I would chase him around the apartment. Most chases ended with him jumping onto our sofa and rolling onto his back so that I’d rub and scratch his belly with my sock still in his mouth. I’d affectionately call him my “kai-kai-doy” (“naughty boy” in Toisan) and retrieve the sock by telling him to “leave it.” Then the process would repeat several more times. It was our form of play, in addition to wrestling, swimming, fetch, and tug-of-war.

I miss his playfulness, his sweet face, and his unwavering loyalty, trust, and love. I miss his gentle snore, his soft fur, and his warm cuddles—our apartment is hauntingly silent and cold without him. I miss his persistent kisses. I miss looking down at the floor to find him next to me. He would lick all the tears off of my face and trade crying with laughing. He helped me to smile. I miss his presence so much—my heart hurts. I am thankful that a week prior to his passing he got to see my dad who taught him how to wait, lie down, and grab the newspaper, and my brother who looked after him while I was at work for Jedi’s first two years when we lived with them. Jedi loved forgiveness. He knew whenever he was in trouble or whenever I was upset. He apologized with kisses whenever he disobeyed. Loving Jedi served as a reminder that my Father’s love is deeper and better than mine. As painful and devastating as it is, I know that God took Jedi from me for my good and out of His love for me.

Below is a letter that I have written to Jedi in a language and voice that he would have understood.

To Jedi:

Hi Jedi. Hi Mr. Jedi. Hi good boy. You were such a good boy. My sweetest puppy. My cutest puppy. My biggest, sneakiest, silliest puppy. My craziest puppy. My kai-kai doy (“naughty boy” in Toisan). My hungriest puppy. My itchiest puppy. My most precious puppy. You just wanted lots and lots of love and lots and lots of attention, and you wanted lots and lots of rub-rub-scratch-scratch, huh Jedi. Huh Mr. Puppy. Were you the happiest puppy? Did you eat lots and lots of good mum-mum (food) like eggs, and broccoli, and carrots, and sardines, and chicken, and cauliflower, and peanut butter, and blueberries, and apples, and nectarines?

Who’s my good boy? Who’s my big baby? Who just wanted to play all the time, and eat all the time, and be a kai-kai puppy all the time? Who liked to say hello to everybody? Where did you put my socks, Mr. Jedi? I remember when you were a little puppy, and then you became the biggest puppy who had to kiss-kiss me all the time and be wherever I was at.

You will always be my good boy, okay? You will get to go to the beach whenever you want and swim and run and jump over the waves and play with all the other puppies. You will get to say hello to everyone, and destroy all the towels and all the socks and all the bottles and all the cardboard boxes, and have all the mum-mum in the world. You will have no more eczema. You will always be with me.

You go nite-nite now, Jedi. Ready to go gao-gao-chee-chee (sleep)? Ready to go to bed? This is the first song you fell asleep to, during a long drive, when I brought you home for the first time. It was the only song I ever sang to you before we went nite-nite.

“I hear the Savior say, ‘Thy strength indeed is small. Child of weakness, watch and pray. Find in Me thine all in all.’ Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain. He washed it white as snow.

Lord now indeed I find Thine power and Thine alone can change a leper’s spots and melt a heart of stone. Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain. He washed it white as snow.

And when before the throne I stand in Him complete, ‘Jesus died my soul to save,’ my lips shall still repeat. Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain. He washed it white as snow.”

You will always be my baby, okay? You go to bed now. Go gao-gao-chee-chee now, puppy. Nite-nite, Jedi. I love you.

Our first photo together. Thank you, Leigh Ann, for somehow breaking into our room and capturing Jedi's first vet check-up. Jedi was 8 weeks old and 11 pounds. 4/5/14

Our last photo together. 9/26/17

Jedi Bastian Wong

February 3, 2014 - November 23, 2017

My Good Boy

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Jedi's nicknames:

Mr. Jedi
Jedi Puppy
Silly Puppy
Sneaky Puppy
Big Puppy
Puppy
Kai Kai Dui (Toisan, a dialect of Cantonese, for "bad boy")
My Good Boy

Happy New Year! I started this year off beautifully by traveling to Zion and Bryce with Daniel, Vince, and Kevin M. from church. I had decided to travel to Utah about two months ago after reading a list of the best places to see in the winter time, and I felt pretty determined. Both parks featured their own mesmerizing charms and fun adventures. Personally, I enjoyed Zion's trails more than Bryce's because they were shorter yet showcased a greater variety of scenes. Bryce's views, however, looked more spectacular overall. While words cannot capture the gorgeousness of either park, Bryce was a winter paradise, a place I did not want to soon leave. I took so many photos, utterly enthralled by the canyons' shapes, patterns, and hues at every turn. I think this trip will remain unforgettable for a long time. It was just so beautiful, I am already sickly nostalgic.

On the way to the Lower Emerald Pool in Zion. The trail was short and icy.

Afternoon sun on the way up to Angel's Landing. We did not complete the hike due to windy and icy conditions.

Bryce--captivating at every angle.

I could not get enough of these snow-capped hoodoos.

The four. I would travel with this group again.

Last weekend, Froilan and I got to stay over at Oscar's house in Monterey. Even though our last rendezvous in Monterey happened almost exactly a year prior, it felt like an eternity ago. This weekend was a very fantastic and satisfying time filled with various outlets for self-indulgence. On the first night, we drank a tasty beer whose name I've forgotten and watched an Australian horror film called Babadook, which not so surprisingly turned out to be laughable. We woke up at six the next morning to go pier fishing for sardines and mackerel but found little success. The breakfast burritos that Oscar bought for us were pretty exceptional though. The following afternoon was the highlight of the weekend for me. We visited the paradisaical Point Lobos where the shore waters appeared green and blue in heavenly hues. The lush, woodland coastline looked so gorgeous from every angle that I couldn't imagine a scene in California that offered a more divine, visual pleasure.

Oscar had recommended dinner at a popular touristy restaurant renowned for its cioppino, so we ate there and instantly tasted the warm glory that was Phil's Fish Market's distinctive bowl. Back at Oscar's we played three games of bananagrams--I won two after Froilan boasted about beating many others. We closed the night by watching The Creep, which was legitimately creepy and reminded me a bit of myself. On our last morning, we ate brunch at Tico's and drove to the local beach for digging up crabs, playing catch, and wrestling in the sand until 4PM came along. An hour later, we prayed, hugged, and said our goodbyes, and I wondered when I would ever again feel like time had stopped.

Oscar turned a walking stick into a selfie stick.

Froilan and I entering the frigid waters at Point Lobos.

China Cove; unfortunately, it was closed during our visit.

Phil's Fish Market--Oscar's recommendation. The cioppino and artichoke hearts were deadly delicious.

Enjoying our last meal together: brunch at Tico's.

Overheard in my Illustrator class: "Was Bilbo Baggins a real person? Someone told me the movie was based on a true story."

Yesterday I suffered over twelve episodes of diarrhea. I don't think that contaminated food was the cause, because no one else who ate the same food got sick. I believe it was from swimming in a contaminated pool for my water aerobics class, which I dropped from my schedule this morning. Somehow I forgot the incident during a swim class two years ago when someone's feces were found at the bottom of the deep end. 

11:00 - Leave house
11:30 - Arrive at school and finish Illustrator assignments
01:00 - Illustrator class
04:30 - Leave Illustrator class and do homework
05:15 - Prepare for water aerobics class
05:30 - Water Aerobics class
07:00 - Leave class, shower, and eat
07:30 - Go home
08:00 - Arrive at home

The goal is to evade all traces of slow traffic. With this schedule, I will be able to sleep without the restraints of a bed time and an alarm.