Dogs

The Woman and the Dog

/ still a dreamer / 8 Comments

It was in the late 80’s on the Lower East Side that I saw her, a woman sharing her quilt with a beautiful Harlequin Great Dane on a street corner at Cooper Square .

I just had to go and say hello to the dog, as we animal lovers are often wont to do. When I came closer, I saw that the woman was very clean, but shabbily dressed, perhaps wearing the only clothes she owned. The dog’s coat was so bright, you needed sunglasses. I could see she was homeless, and her dog was undoubtedly her life.

“May I pet your dog?” I asked. The sun rose in her face and shone with joy.

“Please, sit down,” she offered.

I sat on the quilt, and proceeded to pet and get all mushy with the affectionate Dane. I asked about him, and she was absolutely elated to be able to talk about her magnificent companion. Soon, I was telling her about my Chloe at home, a pit bull terrier who had come to the shelter at 6 months old with a broken leg. We chatted and laughed about our dogs, animals, and life in general as any two new acquaintances would do.

At some point, I had to get going, and we said our goodbyes, still smiling and glowing. I stopped at a small market to get a sandwich and coffee, and decided to get the same for her plus a bag of dog food for the Dane. But when I returned to the corner, she was gone, perhaps shooed away by the police, or maybe that was the amount of interaction she could tolerate; one couldn’t know.

I hoped this beautiful homeless soul would find some peace, comfort, and safety with her dog. I have never forgotten them. A recent event brought them to mind again.

On a particular TV channel (whose “news” I will never watch, and which is heavily constructed of lies), two hosts were talking about the “homeless problem”. One said that if the homeless weren’t willing to accept the resources the city offered, they should be locked up. The other replied, ““Or involuntary lethal injection, or something. Just kill ’em.” Yes, you read that correctly, as unbelievable as it may seem. You can find that clip here.

How has this situation come so far? While homelessness cuts across race, gender, and nationality, essentially, these are people suffering severe economic hardship. They may be our veterans, having seen combat in wars overseas; they come home with PTSD, are unable to manage life, and find no one to help them.

They are former patients of mental institutions, released when it was decided to shut down the hospitals, giving people already unable to cope with life the responsibility of getting somewhere on their own to pick up their meds. But more often than not, they are people who lost their jobs, their home, their car … everything … and had nowhere to turn. They are our neighbors. And there but for some saving grace, they are you. They are me.

Why we have homelessness is not due to a lack of money; it’s due to a lack of love.

The responsibility sits on the shoulders of your average citizen all the way up to elected leaders who have zero concern for humanity and are comfortable fostering hate. Or they simply don’t see the homeless as human beings. Or a priority.

But we – you and I – can still make a difference by continuing to be kind and caring, and believing that this multiplies exponentially, even if slower than we’d like. Peace always begins with us.

Please keep shining.

Knowing When It’s Time

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

There’s a saying, “All good things must come to an end.” Well, maybe not all good things, but surely, some. Coming to an end this month is the better part of my French Bulldog art business.

Inspired by so much appreciation of all the illustration I contributed to Just Frenchies magazine, I embarked on a small business on my website, selling French Bulldog cards. As time went on, I expanded to a shop on Etsy, where I’ve sold everyday blank note cards, holiday/Christmas cards, and a journal.

Little by little, I introduced new designs, and gained a small but loyal band of followers who loved and purchased my art. But then … I couldn’t seem to muster the excitement I once had for drawing these adorable dogs. I wanted to, but it wasn’t happening.

There came a point when I realized that I couldn’t see new additions being a reality, and then further on, a kind of guilt every time I’d be in my studio, looking at all the boxes of these lovely cards I’d created. It was time.

For a while now, ideas of something new have been twinkling in my brain. I realize how far I’ve come from the opening of my Etsy shop, and I need something now that sparks my excitement, that will utilize my talents in art, photography, and writing. I don’t have a clear idea of what they will be yet, but it will excite me. And I want it to touch, inspire, and excite others.

But the first step? Let go of what no longer resonates with my heart and make room for what’s to come. THIS is what is exciting me right now – making room for the unknown.

I’m doing that with a 60% off and final sale of all my Frenchie cards (journals, above, will stay). If interested, please stop by in my shop and share in my last hurrah with me.

A Very Best Friend

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

Growing up in a house with a very anxious mother wasn’t easy. It affected everything and everybody. While I understand as an adult why things were the way they were, it was difficult as a child living with someone who needed to control just about everything. I didn’t consciously know it then, but I longed for someone in the house I could just `be’ with … without intrusion, always accepting, always comforting, and who’d never give up a secret. And my dog became that someone.

When I was 5, my brother 9, our parents decided we were old enough to have a dog, so at Christmas they gave us a beautiful Boxer puppy. I don’t think either of us quite `got’ the concept of having a dog at Christmas when there were still so many other exciting presents to open and play with. But Tinkerbell, as she was named, was not to stay with us very long. Within a few months she developed epilepsy. I don’t remember seeing the seizures my mother described Tink having on the kitchen floor, with blood and foam spewed all over the room. Perhaps I willed myself to forget. There were no cures for epilepsy back then, and Tinkerbell’s only option was to be returned to spirit. I was so young, and hadn’t become very attached to her yet, I don’t think I completely understood what had happened.

Then our parents got another dog. She was sold to them as a Boxer, 6 months old. I recall my mother being so happy that she didn’t drool like other Boxers whose faces were pushed in. There was a reason for that … she wasn’t really a Boxer. At best, she was a Boxer/pit bull terrier mix. My obedience trainer, when he looked at my childhood photos of her, told me that she was pure, and that was how they bred American Pit Bull Terriers back then. It didn’t matter … she quickly became the best friend and confidante I longed for. Her name was Dutchess. My mom had `officially’ named her Dutchess Von Wiggles because she had a butt that was constantly in happy motion.

Dutch couldn’t sleep with me as she wasn’t allowed on the second floor, so I slept with her whenever I could downstairs. We watched TV together, me resting my head gently on her side; and we curled up in sleep on the living room floor. Dutchess learned all the tricks a dog learns, and loved to go for walks or play outside in the yard. I can honestly say, in a way that only a dog or animal lover would understand, she was everything to me … she was my best friend. I did have a human best friend – happily, I always had friends — and I had my big brother to play with and taunt, but Dutchess was different. She was just what I needed – another soul in the house that simply loved me straight out, no matter what. And I adored her for that.

When I was little, my parents would cover her eyes and ears and I would hide. Then they’d let her go … “Find Jeanne!!” And Dutchess would search every nook and cranny downstairs to see where I was hiding, just bursting into wiggling, wagging joy when she found me. What child doesn’t live for those moments? She made me feel safe in a childhood where feeling emotionally safe wasn’t easy. Dutch was the heart, soul, and embodiment of unconditional love. She was both my rock and my wings, my compass and stars; she was my comfort and confidante. She was one little girl’s very best friend.

* This story was originally posted in 2007, and has been edited and updated.

Meandering in A Confused World

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

One of my small daily pleasures each morning once I’ve fed Charlie and made my coffee is to sit by the living room window and do two things – a perusal of Instagram, a gathering if you will, of positive words, thoughts and images (occasionally my own work), and then sharing them in my Stories. Then I journal to clear out the cobwebs, sort out my challenges, put to paper my joys and angst … whatever the day calls for.

While on IG, I always hope that whoever stops by gains some benefit from what I post. We know, vaguely, how the algorithms work; you get more of what you like (almost a corollary of karma, right?), and therefore, I find vast amounts of insight, positivity, and beauty. Some mornings, when I open the app, I am greeted with exactly what I need to know for that day. Because I do believe the Universe works that way.

Sometimes I share things like this, courtesy of @spiritualgoal –

Sometimes I post things I’ve been doing, like the gecko drawing above, or how I’ve redesigned my picture book, Where Do Butterflies Go at Night? 2nd Edition. (You can read that in detail here.)

But mostly, I’m sharing insights, inspiration, and the beauty of life.

Inevitably, while I scroll, I come across other things, often in Threads, about our current political circumstances. And sometimes, I drop in and read, because most of what’s really happening is on social nowadays, not the mainstream media. I find life – mental and emotional life – is a balancing act of trying to remain informed and at the same time, keeping my sanity.

It’s why the positivity is so important. Knowing, remembering, how important we are in the larger scheme of things. Even just being centered and loving in this world is a huge contribution. Holding the place of love.

And sometimes I create my own memes. This one’s for you. Just keep holding that light up high.

The Holidays Are Here!

/ still a dreamer / 9 Comments

And it’s the time of year for those of us who create for a living to remind visitors that all the things we’ve worked so hard on are ready to be gifted!

If you’re looking for a great gift for a child, you can really never go wrong with a book. And if you want a book that will light up the eyes of a little one with wonder, please consider my Where Do Butterflies Go at Night? The story is in rhyme, and takes you through an enchanted nighttime journey while the little boy dreams of the possibilities of where his cabbage white friends go when they disappear at dusk.

I was so fortunate to have the artwork done by illustrator Stella Mongodi – she really found the magic in my words and brought them to life. Butterflies is available at all major online booksellers including Amazon, Barnes & Noble, bookshop, and more.

May your holidays be wonderfully filled with good books and good reading!