Everyone needs their own happy place. Especially in here. Somewhere to escape the drama and politics of the yard.

‍

For some, their happy place is a physical location. A bench under the tree in the yard. The gym or library on the rare days that they are open.

‍

Then there are the happy places that aren’t physical. The ones that people visit in their minds and hearts. Memories of better days, both gone and to come. That joke their partner told them during yesterday’s visit. The phone call to wish their child goodnight.

‍

For many years, my happy place was wherever I was with my soulmate.

‍

Rusty and I met on the anniversary of one of the darkest days of my life. It became the anniversary of one of the best.

‍

Rusty became my constant companion. The chocolate Labrador mix gave me a reason to get out of bed in the morning. To drag myself to appointments with my parole officer. Suddenly having to deal with the world again after 7 years was scary. Rusty got me through.

‍

When I was on the verge of giving up on life, it was knowing that at least Rusty had faith in me that kept me going. Rusty got me through everything. From years of people trying to sabotage my freedom, to multiple major health scares.

‍

Rusty saved my life.

‍

For 13 years, Rusty was my world. When I lost him, I was devastated. I put his bow-tie collar on his favourite teddy bear, and sat it next to Rusty’s ashes.

‍

When I came back to prison, my landlady was human enough to not throw out the photos of my soulmate and his shrine, with the rest of my belongings.

‍

My mother now has Rusty’s ashes and teddy. His photos are on the wall in my cell.

‍

Whatever this place throws at me, I will always have Rusty with me. I will always have my happy place.