Top 5 Artistic Tributes To My Dead Dog
The only thing my mother loves as much as her family is making and buying products on Shutterfly.com. She’s hip and modern enough to know that photo albums are a thing of the past, but she’s still enough of a mom to not fully trust her content with the iCloud, so it instead goes on a beach towel. Plus, how fun is that? Your sons sitting on beach towels on a beach towel?! Get right out of town (if you’re headed to the beach one town over, bring this fun towel)!
Before this website, she loved Kenny, the family dog. We all did. Kenny had a stellar 14-year run of eating Ritz Crackers, being hypo-allergenic, having his own spot on the couch, and not having an enemy in the world. Having lived a good life, his death was by no means tragic, but this month marks the 2-year anniversary. When your dog dies two weeks before the world leaves you with nothing but your thoughts and emotions, the turmoil is significantly amplified.
Since then, not a Christmas or birthday has gone by where I haven’t been gifted some décor with Kenny’s former face on it. Nothing spreads holiday cheer like a reminder that youth is perpetually fleeting. For a while, I didn’t read into it. I loved Kenny. Of course, I love these gifts. They’re as cute as he was, and I look forward to getting more down the line. However, the most recent gift opened my eyes to just how many I’ve acquired. When I gathered them all into one spot, it bordered on creepy. If you walked in my apartment didn’t know better, you’d think I was Helga Pataki and Kenny was my Arnold (apparently, Arnold never had a last name. I’d like to think his last name was Arnold and his first name was indeed Hey). I refuse to let folks think I’m in love with my dog’s ghost.
Rather than unpack all of that, I figured I’d procrastinate with an official ranking. Start the clock! Lock the gates!
#5: The Collage
In my heart, none of these are “the worst,” but something must take last place. If I’m providing an unbiased opinion, this is just three pictures of the same dog. Kenny in glasses is a classic but look up. He can’t even be bothered to be awake. For all we know, he’s dead in that one.
#4: The Water Bottle
This would be higher on the list, but it’s ruined by the fact that I don’t have it anymore. I accidentally left it at work overnight and when I came back the next day, it had been thrown out. If the person who did that is reading this, can I see you in the kitchen? Just for a second.
#3: The Pillow
This is high on the list because it’s the most practical item. It’s a great pillow for subconsciously hugging while you talk to your therapist about life’s impermanence. Grip this with your entire body as you wonder if dogs enjoy being dead because they love bones and they are bones. Bonus points for the “KENNY” emblazoned across the side just in case you were wondering who that is.
#2: The Portrait
In a surprise twist, this was something I commissioned. When I saw my friend and fellow comedian Karl Spaeth was making artwork during the holidays, I couldn’t resist. I am my mother’s son, after all. I sent him multiple pictures of Kenny and he managed to create a brand-new image of him that still captures his essence. Plus, if you’ve known Karl for a decade, he charges less than what he charges other people. If you ever need artwork made, I highly recommend reaching out to him and knowing him for a decade.
And finally…
#1: THE MUG WITH THE PORTRAIT ON IT
Not to be outdone, my mother immediately put that picture on a cup and mailed it to me with no notice. Eagle-eyed readers will note that some of the pictures were reused across multiple mementos, but this transcends that. She saw my gift and thought “In a month, I should regift this to the man who gave it to me.” She really saw my gift and asked herself “Yeah, but can my son drink out of a piece of paper?” She really asked herself “What if this was a launching pad for synergy?”
This is in first place because it inspired this list. I was by no means angry, but I found myself spiraling in confusion. I understand the impact of iconography regarding religion, politics, and art, but in what way is this how we’re processing the death of a loved one? The possibilities seem endless. Are we coping by enforcing a sort of peripheral presence? Perhaps a symptom of our family’s lingering denial that he’s really gone? Maybe Christine just knows that in terms of gifts, this move is a failsafe. Her sons would have to be monsters to prefer a dirt bike.
As I wonder all this, I look at the mug. I remember Kenny and I remember why I have the mug. I look at the mug and I remember the time a 1-year-old Kenny pooped in our bathroom. We were mad, but also impressed he knew where poop goes. I look at the pillow and I remember the one time I caught my brother blowing pot smoke into his ear. I look at the portrait and I remember how if you put your hand in front of his face, he would lick it until you pulled it away. I look at the collage and I laugh at how Kenny thought someone was at the door anytime someone made a correct guess on Family Feud!
I look at these things, and it’s never with ill will. I realize that ultimately, we’re doing this the same way we mark the death of anyone we love: to mark that they lived, and we loved that they did. That’s all we can do now. Drinking coffee out of that marking just happens to be a nice bonus.
Hey! I unpacked it! Cool!