You are stronger than you know.

Goodbyes never get easier.

Audio Note: Prospect Heights, Brooklyn
Walk with me in yesterday’s rain ☔️

Lady Kia of Vanderbilt, 2010-2024

Our Lady Kia of Vanderbilt crossed the rainbow bridge today. She passed peacefully at home in our arms, surrounded by love, devouring her favorite duck treats. She was the goodest girl with the cutest wolf howl for a chiweenie from Tennessee. 13 years ago we were failed foster parents who fell in love with her Rottweiler dot eyebrows, black & tan coat, and a patch of white on her chest like a tuxedo. She got us through grad school and emergency surgeries and the pandemic. Good seasons, bad seasons, endless summer days in Prospect Park, and silent streets of snowstorms in the winter. She traveled with us to Palm Springs, Joshua Tree, upstate NY, Fire Island, Philly, SF, Virginia Beach, but (like us) she felt most at home on the streets of Brooklyn, tail up & wagging like she owned the block. She loved meeting so many of you: friends, family, the drunk girls & construction workers who always blew loud kisses her way. Sorry she ate that whole wheel of Brie cheese at that one Super Bowl party.
Rest easy now, my furever sweet girl. We all know who rescued whom. 🤍

Reading

Jia Tolentino’s “city benediction” for Luna:

She was ready. One more night would have been cruelty. Still, in the weeks leading up to this I went opaque with grief and shame. I sat on the floor with her, hoping she would forgive me. The day before, I sobbed coming home on the G train, knowing I was about to open the front door and say hi to her for the last time. I’ve spent more time with her than I’ve ever spent with any other person. Every hour, almost, for the last twelve years. 

I was twenty-two when we got Luna and now I’m on the cusp of thirty-five. She walked me through the entrance of this edifice of adulthood; she waited patiently for me to figure out its labyrinths. She stayed with us until we had our two children. She taught me the thing that brought me to them—that there was private transcendence in care and obligation.

Would that every person could be loved like this and mourned like this, I kept thinking. That their last moments could be sunshine, murmurs, two hands on your back. That a light could go out instead of being shattered.

You have been a role model for how to approach life—with pleasure.

Listening

Flying Home by Paula Cole played on repeat until we said our final goodbyes. The sun came out, breaking a spell of grey skies, and it shone on us as we wrapped her in a soft blanket printed with stars and planets and carried her down the steps and down her favorite street for the last time.

Hug your fur babies tight,