Welcome and happy spring.
Today I woke to thunder rumbling the house accompanied by brilliant flashes of white light. I love thunderstorms. Just not great when you’re on Zoom, though.
This newsletter is about pets—loving them and leaving them and the bits in-between—followed by an update on my goings-on. It’s always a bit daunting to blab about what I’m doing, but this is an especially thrilling and packed time for me and I’m bursting to share.
The Push-Pull of wanting a dog.
If you have a pet, you very likely love that pet. Most pets are considered part of the family. Your friend, your companion, the one you confide in, and will do anything to keep them healthy. And alive. They are an investment of the heart.
With the Covid lockdown came a surge of dog adoptions. People needed someone to talk to, to touch, and to remind them their lives have value.
I was tempted. My mother raised standard poodles who were elegant and dignified. I perused kennels, searching for Sans Souci (my mother’s kennel) bloodlines. Not finding that lineage mentioned, I experienced a sense of relief. Not on account of the expense or care involved in such an acquisition, but because every animal that I have loved died. Yes, I know that’s the nature of life itself but I just couldn’t.
The last dog we had was a half-wild, part-wolf, part-shepherd with one blue eye and a gorgeous merle coat. His name was Ting and he was road smart. Until he wasn’t.
The notion of adoption had dissolved when I pulled into a yard sale that also had puppies for sale. How unfair. Especially unfair since one of the adorable three-month-old puppies looked a lot like Ting. One blue eye and a coat of many colours. I hovered until I was spared. The owners had decided to keep only that pup.
Lately, so many friends have had to escort their beloved pets over the “rainbow bridge” as they put it on Facebook. Whether they slip away in their sleep, as my 18-year-old Puddy aka Sparky did in 2008, or lose their faculties to the point where that awful decision must be made, their departure leaves a hole that can never quite be filled by the next or the next.
Once, I met a man in Couchiching Park with two exquisite Bernese Mountain dogs. He told me they were referred to as the heartbreak dog. These dogs generally only live to seven years old. Every two years or so, he purchased a puppy so he’d never be without. Seven years.
It’s stupid to see death in the eyes of a puppy, I know, but it occurs to me that although I seem to take the deaths and dying of my friends and family members with relative equanimity, my reluctance to fall in love with a pet may be my weird way of processing, or not processing, my grief.
Happier topics:
Last year Claire Sheridan invited me to take part in the Beta version of a proposed 90-Day novel writing course. It began in January with a diverse group of fascinating writers. The backdrop of the course was Alan Watt’s 90-Day Novel book, which was loosely followed. The wonderful thing about the facilitation of this course is that all stages and styles of projects were welcomed and supported. All members moved forward with their projects and were able to deepen both their understanding of their essence and the characters they created or remembered.
Needless to say, I highly recommend Ignite Your Write.
Next Up:
I wasn’t able to complete the 90-Day Novel Course with Ignite Your Write because I’m off to Spain. After four years of planning and three years of rescheduling (yes, Covid), the wheels are finally going to leave the tarmac. Some participants are already travelling in Europe and Africa, so guests will be arriving in Malaga from Dubai, Morocco, Portugal, Israel, and Canada. Several of us will tour Malaga for two days before heading to Molino del Rey for the week of sunshine, gentle yoga, writing practice, hiking, swimming, and evenings of readings.
Esana and I will meet up with Sulochani who is flying down from Italy to join us for a week of enjoying the sights, sounds, and tastes of Seville and Granada.
Then, I’m off to France for a month to finish The Soft Ones, a project of many years. I’ll spend a day in Rouen before going to La Porte Peinte, a choice I made because a chapter of the book takes place in that city (where I’ve never been.)
My plan is to post here regularly with lots of pictures, so I hope you’ll come along.
The timing is right because when I return to Canada it’s going to be full-on promotion for What the Living Do. Oh yeah, oh yeah.
One of the tasks given to Regal House authors is to reach out to respected authors for blurbs. I’ve received wonderful ones from Alissa York and Nick Bantock, and most recently, from Jennifer Manuel, an author after my heart who wrote The Heaviness of Things That Float, and whose new novel, The Morning Bell Brings the Broken-Hearted is soon to be released. (She also has a wonderful free revision starter kit available online.) Here’s what she said:
“Masterfully, Susan Wadds entices readers with her stunning prose across a rich, complex emotional topography. What the Living Do is a brilliantly crafted portrait of a woman grappling with her demons and the challenges she must overcome to find hope, healing, and redemption. An incredible debut, this novel is moving and unforgettable and will resonate in your soul long after the final page.” -Jennifer Manuel, author of The Heaviness of Things That Float
Release date: March 19, 2024. Stay tuned for the cover reveal!
Back to you
I would love to hear your pet stories—the ones you loved, the ones you miss, the ones you are holding onto right now. Tell me about their quirks and their antics, how they soothe or irritate you. Who are they to you?
Until next time!
I cannot have another pet after losing Shilo, my dog I got in 1996. I will not put myself through that love and loss again. My daughter has always been a two-dog person from purebreds, to rescues. She has helped other people's dogs die (a Burmese Mountain dog needed a home when the owner had Alzheimers). Another friend and her husband died in a car accident and she took in their old dog while the family recovered. She picked up a blind dog that was abandoned on the roadside and sent it to the US to get the cataracts removed so she could see again. Then, that sweet dog died of cancer two years later. For thirty years I've watched her dogs die. Too much heartbreak. On a happier note, I look forward to seeing posts about Spain and the amazing followup in France. You are cresting a wave, so ride it my dear.
Susan,
So many stories about our sweet and insane dog I could share. She’s a rescue and has taught me much. When we were fostering a child, the parallels between her and my son were striking.
Losing a pet is really really hard but living with them, loving them is a beautiful thing.
I hope you have a wonderful trip in Spain. Can’t wait to see pics.