Our Beloved Animals
Love, Goodbyes, and Holding Hands
Hello my fine DrawTogether GUT friends.
If you follow me over on instagram you might have seen the news: my ex-parter (and forever family) Caroline Paul and I said goodbye to our beloved little rescue dog Suso last week.
Those of you who were part of DrawTogether during the pandemic (and beyond!) know Suso as our patient and good-natured canine co-host on the kids’ drawing show, and the long-suffering subject of many a drawing exercise.
Like all of us, Suso had gotten old. In the past few weeks she’d stopped eating, and lost much of her strength. She looked uncomfortable. Part of our jobs as animal guardians is to decipher when their suffering outweighs their comfort. (If only they could speak!) All signs said it was time. Letting her go was so hard. It was also the right thing to do. I wish we had just one more day with her. But we’ll always want one more day. One more day forever.
A deep, heartfelt thank you to Dr. Ken from A Gentle Rest who came to the house to administer the drugs that put Suso’s body to rest. I didn’t know an animal goodbye could be so loving, memorable and feel so right.
Here is the little eulogy for Suso that Caroline and I shared on Instagram, where people fell in love with her soulful eyes and silly snout:
It’s with heavy hearts filled with love that Caroline Paul and I share the passing of our sweet rescue mutt, Suso.
She came to us with floppy ears and a voracious appetite, with a tiny heart of love and hope. During the pandemic she became a furry friend and emotional support to tens of thousands of kids around the globe as our DrawTogether co-host. She never complained about the long hours on set, or being paid in low grade treats. When we had our graduation days, kids drew diplomas and year books featuring Suso on the cover. She became our mascot for joy, art, and togetherness.
Few people know that her name, SuSo, is short for Susan Sontag, the feminist east coast writer and critical theorist, though Suso was none of those. She was a Fresno girl with simple needs who did have a Sontag-like white streak in her hair. Also perhaps like Ms. Sontag, Suso always got what she wanted (sometimes by opening backpacks to remove/consume copious amounts of fully wrapped protein bars and lollipops.) She was a loyal Houdini who would escape any confinement in search of Caroline, her number one doggie caregiver, aka “responsible mom.” Meanwhile, wendy, aka “fun mom” would try to ingratiate herself to Suso with unhealthy amounts of snacks and tooth-cracking games of tug of war. And somehow in the midst of all this, she ended up on PBS Newshour.
Suso was loved by so many. Most of all: kids. And she loved you kids back. Maybe because you smelled like cookies but also because she had a gentle heart.
If you’d like to share memories of Suso please leave them in the comments below. And if any DrawTogether kids (of any age) want to process some inside weather and celebrate her with a drawing, nothing would make Suso happier. Please tag @drawtogether.studio and we will share them out.
Suso, we miss you.
Coincidentally, the brilliant writer, kind human, and drawer extraordinaire Sam Anderson launched his new NYT podcast Animal this week with a story about his beloved dog(s): what it means to let go, and then find love again. It’s called Walnut and Me.
It’s a beautiful story and you can read it in the magazine, but I really recommend reading it online, where it is accompanied by animated drawings by Gaia Alavi, giving it a personal pacing and visual storyline that makes it all the more intimate and joyful and true. Here is a GIFT LINK so you can watch it if you don’t subscribe to the NYT.
While not wrapped in the throws of loss this week (isn’t it shocking how many emotions come up when you really let yourself feel the grief?) I’ve been writing descriptions of the talks and workshops I want to do with my new speaking agency. I recently joined the Steven Barclay Agency and maybe because of Suso, or maybe because of life, I found myself proposing a workshop about saying goodbye.
It’s been nearly a year since I published the book How to Say Goodbye (if you like you can buy it here.) On publication day, I opened up to you all, the Grown-Ups Table, about the many losses I’d experienced leading up to to the book’s release. It was such a hard time. So much grief. I thought it would never end. But it receded a bit. It got easier. There was some unexpected joy. I think now I’m settling into a place where there is always joy and sadness, both together, holding hands.
A few days ago, bereft, I asked my dear friend
to join me on a hike. All up and down the mountain I cried and blew my nose into my shirt so much that I had to take it completely off. If you read her phenomenal substack The Examined Family this will come as no surprise, but Courtney is a great listener. She’s way less a do-er or problem solver than I. At one point as we were walking and I weeping hysterically, snotting into my shirt, she just said “Aw, bud,” and took my hand. And we walked together down the hill, holding hands.When is the last time someone just held your hand?
I think that’s what we often need so much of the time.
When our heads and hearts get overwhelmed, when we think we’re going to collapse, we need to return to the body. We need to breathe. To hold hands. Have long hugs. Dance. Flail about. Draw.
And so this week, for our drawing assignment, I am asking all of you to hold hands with me. And Caroline. And Sam. And Courtney. And everyone who has lost a companion animal - furry or feathered or scaled or human for that matter - a loyal to the core friend who should never ever have to leave but dammit they always do. I’m asking us to draw our beloved creatures.
ASSIGNMENT
Free subscribers will notice here's no paywall on this post today. I can’t put a limit on animal love.
This week I’m offering us all the opportunity to draw an image of that animal you loved and tell us a little something about them. It doesn’t have be a fancy drawing. It can be a blind contour, or a comic. It can be from a photo or from life or memory or imagination. But draw an animal (or human animal) you’ve loved and would like to remember. And tell us about the silly things your animal/otherwise friend did that made you laugh, or drove you crazy, or how they tool care of you, or how they saved your life.
Because they do.
This assignment is entirely selfish, my friends. I really just want to see drawings of your pets because it will make me feel better. :)
Here is a drawing I made of our sweet dog Suso:
Fun fact: She loved to play fetch but only indoors and with a furry creature that was closer in species to a gym sock than a stuffed animal. Also, in addition to Suso, we called her Schwee, Shushee, SchweetieDoo, SchweetieSchwee, and Dwee. Also, she was a huge snorer and it drove me NUTS. (Sorry Suso, it’s true.)
Okay, your turn.
SHARE YOUR ANIMAL DRAWING IN THE CHAT
I will keep the GUT Art Share/Chat for members only, so if you want to join in there and you’re not a member, or you just want to support my work here on DrawTogether/The Grown-Ups Table, you know what to do:
But look. Things in the world are so hard right now. So many big feelings all at once. Let’s try to do this together, everyone, like a global meditation that will soften the hardest heart: let’s call to mind an image of the sweetest soft creature we’ve ever known, and imagine what it feels like to be snuggled by them in our saddest, scariest moments. Really feel their warm body and fur. And let’s remember that feeling, burn it into our bodies. And let it be a reminder of what’s possible in us all, all the time: Being loved. Completely. Just being loved without any expectations or transactions.
And giving that love back. And maybe the occasional treat.
ARTISTS AND THEIR PETS
Below are a few fun examples of artists and their beloved pets. Hockney will forever be my fave. If you are interested in learning more about artists and their relationships to animals, check out Bailey Richardson’s phenomenal substack Art Dogs, essays dedicated to “beloved pets who lived alongside artists.”
Thanks for being with me through this one, my friends. If you are not a GUT member but would like to share a little something about your animal in the comments below, we’d all love to hear/read/share.
Pencils up, friends.
xoxo,
w
ps - know someone who would love the GUT? Give a subscription as a gift! <3
Loved seeing everyone’s sketch postcards from travel far, near, and from the couch. ICYMI: Travel Tips: Less phone, more sketchbook
I am so sorry for your loss of Suso. My hardest loss, almost ten years ago, was of my English Bull. I drew and painted her during her life, but never could afterwards. It was a long hard road back into my life, a life in which I always carry her and can feel in my body exactly where I do, can feel her there.
What I have done since is painted animals whose deaths have left others bereft and have given those people the original or prints. In the last week I have delivered painting and prints of an old hippopotamus and had the honor of being there for many people's last visits before her death.
I know others write songs or poems to capture their bereavement.
Take care in the months ahead.
Oh no! I'm sorry -- it's SO hard. Ugh. It just doesn't seem fair. This audiobook helped me understand my feelings when my pup Lisa died. It was comforting and validating without religious messages. 💞
https://www.audible.com/pd/The-Loss-of-a-Pet-Audiobook/1977300650?source_code=ASSORAP0511160006&share_location=library_overflow