dog hair in my dna
In the years since my mom passed, I’ve tried to do something special to honor the many gifts she had bestowed upon me in a life cut much too short. The first time, I had repaired and cleaned a stuffed toy she had made for me when I was only three.* Each subsequent Mother’s Day, I chose something different yet meaningful. This year it was all about celebrating the woman from whom I inherited my love of animals.
Yes, indeed, there is dog hair in my DNA. (Also frequently my nose, my mouth, and woven into the fibers of my clothes, but that's a whole different mom-to-prolific-shedder matter.)
There are photographs of my dogs—past and present—on and all around my desk (and, in fact, my entire home), but none of them show my mother with her own dogs. When I uncovered an unused frame I had stashed away last autumn (and had eventually forgotten), I found myself inspired to add it and one other to my desk, both featuring photos of Mom and her canine companions. She’d welcomed many dogs and multiple species of animals into her life, though photographs of them are few. These are my favorites.
The second frame I bought specifically for this purpose and altered it to my liking. What started out as a stark white frame with a stark white mat was transformed into something softer, more feminine, and better suited to both my Mom and my workspace. I fashioned my own floral mat, distressed the frame for a vintage, shabby chic aesthetic, and added a hand-painted wooden heart embellished with a subtle script. The whole project required only an hour, but I think Mom would have been pleased to see it and to know that, in some small way, I’m keeping her close as I write each and every novel.
The young woman in the larger photo still had her whole life ahead of her. She was seventeen years old, and a few more years would go by before any little humans would call her “Mom”. That smiling poodle puppy is Mulie, a dog with whom I’d shared only the first year of my life. Standing in front of my grandfather’s 1953 or 1954 Packard Cavalier is also my Mom at age five, give or take. Sadly, I don’t know the name of the dog, but he or she sure is cute and was definitely deserving of the treat in its tiny trainer’s hand.
It feels good to have these images framed and placed here amongst the beautiful faces of my own precious pups and the extraordinary human soul with whom I share my life. Who among us, after all, wouldn’t wish to be surrounded by so much furry and familial love?
* Read my original post about honoring absent moms—Reclaiming Mother’s Day—and learn how I turned grief into celebration.