Chapter 1

Ashley says goodbye to an old friend with hopes of meeting again.

“See ya later,” I say and hold his tiny paw as he takes his final breaths. I know it’s not goodbye but I cry anyway as my mom holds me close. There are tears running down her cheeks and even the vet has a flicker in her eye. She places the stethoscope to his chest and we’re silent as she listens. 

“He’s gone,” she says softly and my tears flow freely. I can’t help but cry. Jasper was the first pet I’ve ever had and he was my best friend for years; my only friend. And here he lies lifeless. It doesn’t look like he’s sleeping. He looks dead, a stuffed object no different from a toy. Like I could see the moment his soul was lifted from his body. It’s gone elsewhere now, I just don’t know where yet, or how long it will take to get it back. 

I rub the tiny pads of his paw. I’ve held this paw so many times and it never once crossed my mind that eventually I’d have to let it go. It hurts just to think about. My eyes burn and my chest is heavy. If I had eaten anything today I would have thrown up. Tears stain the neck of my sweater and I soak my sleeves wiping my face. 

Finally, I let go of his paw and let my mom embrace me. I wrap myself around her and sob into her shoulder. She holds me close as she runs her fingers through my hair. We stay like this for what seems like forever until I finally pull myself away to wipe my face again. If I didn’t, I know she would never let me go.

Dr. Mary has tears in her eyes and her face is red and puffy, yet she smiles. “You did a very selfless thing, Ashley,” she says to me. “Jasper had an amazing life and was loved so much. He was one lucky ferret.” She turns to my mom. “Ms. Splaine, you have such a bright and caring son and he is so mature and responsible for his age. He took better care of his pet than I see most adults.”

My mom sniffles and rubs her hand up and down my arm. “He’s always loved animals, that’s for sure. It took years of begging for him to get Jasper.” 

Dr. Mary snickers and hands each of us a tissue. “I can tell. Any other pet you have will be very happy, I’m sure of it.” 

My chest feels too heavy to speak, yet somehow I do, my voice weak and shaky. “Thank you.” 

“Now, for the remains. I know you said you want a cremation, and before that what we usually do is make an imprint of their paw in a little clay mold for you to have and keep. Usually we charge a fee, but I’d be willing to eat that cost if that’s something you’re interested in.” I look to my mom and she nods, and I nod too. “Okay,” Dr. Mary says and with that she wraps Jasper’s body in the blanket and takes him to the back. 

My mom takes a deep breath and looks to the ceiling with her hands tense behind her head. I’m sure it causes her a lot of pain to lift her right shoulder like that. “Oh that poor little guy. How you holding up, Ashley?” 

“I’m fine,” I say. It’s not goodbye, that’s why I didn’t say it. She holds me again and I hold her back, clinging and never wanting to let go. 

It’s not long before Dr. Mary comes back in and in her hands, like she promised, is a circular clay mold placed inside a clear baggy. “Here you go. It’s not baked yet so be careful,” she says as she hands it to me, and I rest it on my palms like a delicate butterfly. His paw is perfectly placed in the center with small hearts scraped into the clay. Below is his name and the year along with a little message: Always Loved and Never Forgotten.  

“Thank you,” I say after what was probably a long moment of silence. I guess in a way I will always be able to hold his tiny paw. 

“You’re so welcome,” says Dr. Mary. “We’ll be giving you a call in about two weeks to pick up the ashes. In the meantime, if you have any questions please don’t hesitate to give us a call.”

“Thank you,” I say again. This time I just don’t know what else to say. 

“You can take as much time in here as you need. When you’re ready, you can leave through the side door down that hall if you’d rather not leave through the lobby.” 

“Thank you.” How many times am I going to say that in such a short span of time? Or has it been a short span of time? I feel like we’ve been here forever. 

Dr. Mary takes her leave and shortly after so do we. I’m extra careful as I carry Jasper’s paw and don’t take it out of the bag to avoid getting any fingerprints on it, but it’s nice to not be leaving empty handed like I was expecting. There are baking instructions printed on the front label so at least it won’t be this delicate for long. 

We get into the car and my mom needs a moment before starting the engine. When she finally does, she says what she always says: “Have you eaten?” 

“Yeah,” I lie. 

“Are you still hungry? I’m sure you don’t have an appetite right now but we can pick something up for later.” 

“No thanks. I just want to go home.” 

“Yeah, me too. Today’s been hard but tomorrow will be brighter. There is always a tomorrow.” 

Our apartment is only a fifteen minute drive from the vet but the way here seemed like at least a year. Bringing your pet to their death is the part nobody prepares you for, but I guess the same thing can be said about cancer. It just happens and after we’re expected to move on. Somehow, life always moves on; even after it ends. 

I stare at the paw print through the plastic and notice some of his fur is stuck to the clay. Part of him is still here, and I wonder if that’ll be enough or if I need to wait until I get his remains back. Or maybe I should be happy if I never see him again, because at least that would mean he found peace in death after life got too hard. At least, I hope that’s what it means. It’s been years and I’m still not sure but thinking about it will always make me uneasy. To be a prisoner, or to be nothing. Which could possibly be worse? 

We live on the first floor so it’s not long until we get to the door. My mom unlocks it and holds it open. “You coming?”

I don’t take my eyes from the paw print. “I just need a minute.”

“I understand.” She closes the door behind her and I’m left alone in the hallway, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a single soul in sight. She doesn’t always appear, but I also don’t think she’s able to leave this hall for whatever reason. At least, I’ve never seen her anywhere else. 

A draft rushes through the corridor and she appears through the walls like mold. Her flesh is pale as a ghost--literally--and colored with thick veins running through her body while her eyes are vacant and cloudy. Her dress reaches down to her ankles but is slit and bloodied at the bottom. Holes and stains of red litter the garment to paint a picture of her death which I assume took place in this very hall. Though, you’ll never find a blood stain on the concrete. 

She stands there as still as a painting as I slide my back down the wall. “Hey Carrie,” I say.

Carrie walks closer to me, limping as she only wears a single heel. The foot that is missing the other shoe is twisted backwards and crusted with dried blood with a small hint of bone sticking out from the joint. When she gets closer she kneels to my level and glances at the clay in my hand. “What’s that?” she asks, her voice soft and sweet like that of an angel rather than a ghost. She reminds me of a pin-up girl from the 70’s and it makes me wonder how long she has been dead. Or she could just be a hipster. 

“It’s a paw print from Jasper.”

“Who’s Jasper?”

“My ferret.” I know I told her all of this before, but memory isn’t her strong suit. She doesn’t even remember how she died, who she was, or even her name. I just call her Carrie because of a song by my favorite band. “He died today.” 

“Is he coming back?” she asks. 

“I’m not sure. I hope so...I think. Being a ghost isn’t so bad, right Carrie?” 

She places her hand to her chin and hums as she thinks. “I’m not sure. Being a ghost is all I have ever known.” 

“Yeah, that’s a fair answer.” I stand up and so does Carrie. She’s a lot taller than me, even with one heel. Aside from the blood splatter and height of a basketball player, she looks dainty and delicate with short curled red hair and deep red lipstick. She was dealt a bad hand in life but she remains kind. I guess being a ghost isn’t so bad. “I’ll see ya later, Carrie,” I say and she disappears back into the walls from which she came. She can never stay long and I don’t know why.

I take a deep breath before entering the apartment and my mom stands in the kitchen with a baking sheet in front of her. She slaps her hand to her leg. “I didn’t know what to preheat the oven to.” 

I check the print on the bag. “It’s 350,” I tell her and step into the kitchen.

My mom wraps her good arm around my shoulders. “Are you okay for this? We can wait.” 

I nod. “I’m okay. I want to do this. For Jasper. He’s still a part of this family.” 

“I’m proud of you. You took really good care of him.” 

“I loved him.” 

“I know you did kiddo. And maybe, someday, this little family will get a little bigger...possibly.” 

A smile, but it’s not from joy. “I don’t think I’m going to be ready for another ferret for a while.” 

“Oh yeah, of course. Nobody could replace Jasper.” 

I take the mold out from the bag and place it on the cooking sheet. “He really was special,” I say, and put it in the oven. This isn’t goodbye, so I don’t say it.

Author's Note

Polite constructive criticism is welcome.