On Wednesday evening, around 6:58 PM, my life changed forever.

I left my house for less than 20 minutes. While I was gone, an electrical fire started from the AC unit. I returned home around 7:00 PM to find my house filling with smoke and flames.

My sister Candice and I immediately did everything we could to get inside and find Rocky. We kicked in windows and doors trying to reach him. I repeatedly went into the smoke-filled house searching room by room while we fought to contain the fire and waited for firefighters to arrive.

For approximately seven minutes, I searched for him and refused to leave. The only reason I stopped was because firefighters arrived and physically made me come out so they could safely enter and begin their search.

Rocky didn’t make it out.

In a matter of minutes, I lost my best friend, my home, and nearly everything I owned.

Many of you know that in 2024 I was shot and my life changed forever. Through the surgeries, physical therapy, PTSD, sleepless nights, and the long road of recovery, Rocky was there every step of the way. When I came home from the hospital, Rocky was there. When I was struggling, Rocky was there. No matter what kind of day I was having, he was always waiting for me with unconditional love.

He wasn’t just my dog. He was family. He helped me survive one of the darkest periods of my life.

Beyond losing Rocky, I’m grieving so much more than just a building. Years of cameras, photography equipment, artwork, creative projects, personal keepsakes, and memories were lost in the fire. Among the hardest losses are my film negativesespecially the photographs I had of Rocky. I spent years documenting our life together, never imagining those images would one day be all I had left. So many of my favorite photographs of him—moments that captured his personality, his loyalty, and the life we shared—were stored in those negatives and are now gone forever.

I also lost irreplaceable photographs of friends and family, memories I had carefully preserved over the years. Those images were more than pictures; they were pieces of my life and the people I love. Losing them feels like losing a part of those moments all over again.

While I hope insurance may eventually help with some of the financial loss, there are things no insurance check can bring back. The truth is, I don’t even know if I could bring myself to live there again. That house held so many memories. It was where I recovered after being shot, where I tried to rebuild my life, and where Rocky was waiting for me every day when I came home.

The house can be rebuilt. Possessions can eventually be replaced. But there will never be another Rocky. The hardest part of all of this is knowing that as I face another life-changing tragedy, my best friend isn’t here this time.

As I begin trying to rebuild, I’m facing a lot of uncertainty. I don’t yet know what personal belongings will be covered by homeowners insurance, if any, and even if they are, that process could take months. In the meantime, I am left trying to replace basic necessities, find a new place to live, furnish it, recover from this loss, and figure out where to go from here.

I hate asking for help, especially because so many people showed me kindness after I was shot in 2024. But today, I need help again.

If you are able to donate, share this fundraiser, or keep my family in your prayers, I would be deeply grateful. Every contribution, no matter the amount, will help me begin rebuilding my life after this devastating loss.

Thank you to everyone who has reached out, offered support, and kept us in your thoughts.

And thank you for helping me honor Rocky’s memory. He was the best friend I could have ever asked for, and I will carry him with me for the rest of my life.

Rest easy, buddy.