As I walked into the fraternity house I was unexpectedly greeted by my girlfriend. I welcomed this unanticipated visit and started to give her a kiss, but she stopped me and wanted to know if I talked with my parents today. With a strange feeling in my stomach I told her I had not but wanted to know her reason for asking. She demanded that I just call my parents, but I continued to want to know what was going on. By now the feeling in my stomach had spread all over my body and I felt numb. She told me something had happened and that I needed to call my parents. I wanted to know now, and I persisted that she tell me. With an empty look in her eyes she told me, "Jason Gage died."

Nearing the end of my senior year in high school I began to want a dog. My brother had bought a Labrador Retriever for his last birthday, and all of the sudden I too wanted a canine companion. For many weeks I spent hours, on the Internet and reading books, gathering information on every dog I could find.

With graduation nearing money was coming in all the time, so I decided that I wanted a pure bred. In the books I had read, they explained that pure bred dogs tend to live longer and have healthier lives than do other dogs.

At this time the Taco Bell commercials were in full swing and the latest craze was the Chihuahua. I knew I wanted a small dog, but I was not sure if I wanted a Chihuahua. I finally narrowed it down to a Pug or the trendy Chihuahua. I had called about both and they were each located reasonably close to each other so I decided I would go out and take at look at both and decided from there.

The Chihuahua was the first stop on my dog shopping trip. As I arrived at the house, I walked into the room where the puppies were. There was only one little Chihuahua left. He stood up on his hind legs to greet me and with one look I knew he was it. He was brown in color with a white stripe under his belly and white paws. I played with him for a few minutes and looked over at my best friend, who had accompanied me on this trip, and said "Guess we won’t be making that other stop after all." I had found my dog, and what a dog he would turn out to be.

As my heart sank, the tears filled my eyes. Thoughts and feelings filled my mind. My dog, only a year and a half old, dead? "How did he die?" I kept asking Samantha. As tears started filling her eyes she told that I should just call my parents. I ran into my room reached for my cell phone from the desk and tried to dial the number of my parents work, but I couldn’t. My tears had now turned to sobs and my knees felt week. I just kept thinking: how could this be, how could Gage, my little buddy, be gone?

My girlfriend dialed the number for me and handed me the phone. As my mother answered the phone, I immediately demanded to know what happened to my little boy. She immediately burst into tears. "He’s dead, JJ. I am so sorry, I am so sorry baby."

"What happened? How did he die?" I kept repeating.

She could not bring herself to tell me, so she put me on hold to transfer me to my father. My father got on the phone and immediately started to apologize. "I am so sorry JJ, it is all my fault."

I did not want to hear "I’m sorry," I wanted to know why MY dog was dead. I wanted to know what had happened to MY dog.

My father continued to apologize and take blame for what had happened, but as I sobbed I just wanted to know what had happened to him. "For the last week we have been letting him stay outside with Dutch, in her pen," he started off. Dutch was my brothers Chocolate Labrador, which had her own pen in the backyard. My dad went on to explain to me that they had been putting Gage out there during the days, and he seem to enjoy being out there with Dutch. My parents would come home for lunch and let both of the dogs come inside and cool off, and then when they got home at night they would let them in for the night.

On this day my parents came into the house my dad started for the back door to go and let the dogs in. When he opened the door he saw him. My little boy was laying there in the middle of our backyard, motionless. My dad rushed out hoping Gage was still alive, but as he got near Gage he realized he was already dead. "What happened to him dad?" I asked.

"The dogs next door got a hold of him," he answered.

Our next door neighbors had moved in just a few months earlier, and with them they brought two male pit bulls. The dogs were severely mistreated, malnourished, and ferocious. The fence between the two yards was missing a few boards and on occasion the dogs would come over into our yard. As soon as they came between the boards Dutch would bark continuously until my brother or I would come out and force the dogs back into their yard. The dogs were very mean, like I said, and getting them back onto their yard was not an easy task. We would usually have to have to use a shovel or another kind of weapon to threaten them with in order for them to go back between the boards. This day however my brother and I were not home and Gage was out of the pen with the two pit bulls.

My dad never disclosed any details of how badly my Gage was injured, but I can just imagine. When my dad told me what those damn dogs had did, I wanted to go home and shoot them right then and there.

"I’m coming home," I told my parents. They persisted that I not. They said that coming home would do nothing, but coming home was what I needed to do.

"JJ please don’t come home. You are angry right now and I don’t want you to do anything stupid." By stupid they meant harming the dogs next door. As much as I wanted to kill those mutts, I assured my parents that I would not do anything to the dogs. My girlfriend offered to make the trip back to Houston with me, so at 4:00pm Monday afternoon, I went home to say goodbye to my Gage.

When I left for college, Gage was heart broken, and so was I. The whole summer we had hung out, we did everything together. He slept with me every night and every morning he would wake me up so that I could take him outside. If I had to run an errand, or pick my parents up from the office, he would ride right next to me. Being at school was not all that tough though. Since I played soccer every weekend and my parents came up for every game, they would bring Gage to see me quite often. Every time my parents would arrive and open the door, he would jump out and come running into my arms. My parents said he was so happy when he got to ride in the car, because it meant he was coming to see me. This past summer it was the same thing. Everywhere I went Gage went. He was my buddy and I am going to miss him- both during the summer, but also this soccer season when he is not on the sidelines to watch me.

The ride home back to Houston was a long one, but it was good for me. I calmed down and put things into perspective. Samantha helped me through the ride tremendously. She would just remind me of all the great times Gage and I shared and how I should be thankful for having him be a part of my life. We talked the whole way home, some about Gage, but mostly about other things. It helped me to forget about the loss I had just suffered and remember the good things in life.

As I pulled into the driveway my heart began to sink. I was going to walk in my front door for the first time without Gage running up to great me. The room was quiet as I walked in my father and brothers just sat there almost emotionless. I guess they did not know what to say. I broke the awkwardness with a little joke, mostly to let them know I was okay with everything that had happened. We talked for a few moments about how school was coming along, and what was going on around the house, but my mind was only one place: I wanted to visit Gage. As Samantha went into the kitchen to get a drink, I slipped out the back door to find where my dad had buried my little boy. I looked around but could not find any loose dirt, so I turned to go back inside. Just then my dad came out and was holding something. It was Gage’s collar, which he had kept for me. He told me again he was so sorry that this had happened, and I explained to him that I did not hold him accountable for anything that happened. "I buried him out front, under the tree, that way he always will have some shade," he told me. I sighed as tears began to blur my vision.

I walked straight through the house and out the front door. My dad followed and my girlfriend let me have my space. As my dad pointed out the spot under the tree, I hit my knees and just laid over him. I was sobbing and just thinking I would never get to see him again. I knelt there and cried I talked to him and told him that I loved him, I told him how good of a dog he was, and how much fun I had with him. Holding his collar in a tight fist, I sobbed.

I have never lost someone close to me. The closest person that I have ever lost was my great grandfather when I was younger. With never losing someone so close to me, losing Gage really hit me hard. As I knelt there crying I just wanted to hold him again, have him lick my face or just fall asleep cuddled up under my chin. I said a little prayer for my Gage and kissed his grave. I told him one last time that I loved him and he was my best friend, and then I got up and hugged my father who was standing there. He let me cry on his shoulder and he just told me again how sorry he was.

As I laid down for bed that night my mind could not escape the fact that Gage was not there trying to get under my blanket. In my prayers I asked the good Lord to watch over Gage and enjoy his companionship. I just laid there and thought about the times we had. The day my best friend and I drove across town to pick him up, and all he did was shiver and whimper the whole way home. Running around the house playing "hide and go seek from each other". Laying in bed with him on Sunday afternoons and watching the football games. Packing my bags for school and watching him try to hide in them so he would not get left. The day was September 11, 2000 and as I fell asleep I cried I cried because I had lost my little buddy, my dog, my best friend.