In the painting, there are three—
not just dogs, but a small, perfect circle of trust.

Jax stands steady at the center of it,
older, wiser, carrying the quiet weight of responsibility
the way only true guardians do.

Beside him, Faith—
soft-eyed, hopeful,
learning the shape of the world
by watching how Jax loved it.

And Apollo, bright and bold,
all heart and motion,
leaning into the safety
Jax had already promised them all.

Sunlight rests on their backs
like a blessing no one named yet.
Three bodies close,
three lives unaware
that this peace would one day become sacred.
 

When danger came,
Jax moved first—
not alone,
but strengthened by the family
he had already taught how to belong.

Faith waited, trusting.
Apollo stayed, brave in his own way.
Two younger hearts held steady
because the oldest had shown them how.

The brown snake did not win.
Love did.
Protection did.
A hero did—
giving everything
so a child could be safe,
so a family could remain whole.

Now Faith and Apollo walk the days forward,
carrying pieces of him in how they stay close,
how they watch,
how they love without question.

And Jax is never truly gone—
he runs ahead of them in memory,
stands guard in silence,
and lives on
in every loyal instinct
they learned by loving him.

Once, there were three
captured in a single breath of time.
Now there are still three—
two at your side,
and one forever leading the way.