A tender post.

For my best boy

For the past twelve years, my early mornings have been shared with a special companion. Each day at 5:30 or 6:00, we'd settle into our window spot where I'd sip my tea and watch the birds at the feeder with my faithful friend by my side. Today, that spot feels different. Empty. My little pal isn't with me, and it's taken me some time to find the strength to write these words.

On Christmas Day, it will be three weeks since we said goodbye to Dudley. No amount of preparation can truly ready you for the grief of losing your dog. I've watched many friends go through this heartbreaking experience, and while I deeply empathized with them, I never fully understood the depth of this loss until now.

For those who've followed my journey here and on Instagram, you know that Dudley was more than just a pet – he was my trusty sidekick both at the studio and in life. A charming mix of rat terrier, Chihuahua, and something else equally wonderful, he came into our lives through Barc Shelter in Williamsburg. I'd been walking dogs there for years before Dan and I felt ready to welcome our own dog into the family.

The day I met Dudley, he was tucked away under blankets in the first cage on the left. After a walk home to meet Dan, we spent an anxious 24 hours deciding whether to adopt this little pup who, despite his kennel cough, had immediately claimed my lap as his own. It was one of the best decisions we ever made.

Dudley was about seven when we got him, and for the next 11½ years, he filled our lives with adventure and unconditional love. In our child-free household, he truly was the heart of our family. He and I were each other's orbit – always looking for me, looking at me, or finding some way to maintain physical contact. The absence of his touch throughout each day has left an unfathomable void.

He was remarkable in so many ways – a lover of long walks who always listened and came back (until his hearing began to fade), and even then, he kept me in his sight. Despite his initial nervousness around men, once he decided you were a friend, you were family for life. Dan, of course, became his favorite human dad, and together they shared a beautiful bond.

Dudley had an incredible intuition for my emotions, always knowing when I was sad or anxious. He helped me through countless trying times with his unwavering support and love. As anyone who has lost a dear animal friend knows, one of the hardest adjustments is walking through the front door and not being greeted by your sweet pal who acts as if they haven't seen you in years.

I'm eternally grateful that the universe brought us together. Thank you, Dudley, for always seeing the best in me, even during my worst moments. Thank you for all our walks, for giving me the confidence to venture beyond my comfort zone, and for exploring with me in all weather. Thank you for being our protector, for making us laugh with your silly antics, and for making me a mom. It was a privilege.

When I think of you, I'm transported back to that moment on the Rockaway beach, about a year after we got you, watching you run towards me with pure joy. You loved every beach you came across. I hope you're running free on a sandy stretch over the rainbow bridge with all our dog friends until we meet again.

I want to express my deepest gratitude to everyone who has supported me these past few weeks – bringing food, sharing poems and kind words, offering their dogs for cuddles, listening, and helping me decorate when all I wanted was to retreat. Your kindness has meant more than I can express.

Beautiful words by Mary Oliver:

I Ask Percy How I Should Live My Life

“Love, love, love says Percy.
And run as fast as you can
along the shining beach, or the rubble, or the dust.
Then, go to sleep.
Give up your body heat, your beating heart.
Then, trust.”

“Because of the dog’s joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. It is not the least reason why we should honor as well as love the dog of our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born. What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? What would this world be like without dogs?”

Little Dog’s Rhapsody in the Night

He puts his cheek against mine
and makes small, expressive sounds.
And when I’m awake, or awake enough

he turns upside down, his four paws
in the air
and his eyes dark and fervent.

“Tell me you love me,” he says.

“Tell me again.”

Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Over and over
he gets to ask.
I get to tell.

To those who've lost a pet or family member - my heart breaks with yours, it’s hard to go through any time of the year but now is very tough. These goodbyes are just brutal, and there's just no easy way through it. Our pets leave such a mark on our hearts, and that love stays with us even when they can't be here anymore. I know everyone says time helps, I’m trusting that it does, but for now let’s just take it one day at a time. You're in my thoughts, and sending you so much love as you go through this.

Thank you for your patience as I’m rolling a little slower sending these letters to you. This week’s demo (below) has a special cameo appearance: Japanese anemones in charcoal with a side of a very good boy. I hope you enjoy it.

As always, with love and gratitude,

Helen.