Our recent Narratively Academy chat with artist, writer and fervent sketchbook proponent Nupu Press inspired a fun flash essay + art contest. We asked readers to pick a small moment from the week that they might otherwise forget, write up to 500 words, and include a drawing, photograph, or collage. The winner is Christine Ochs-Naderer, who paired her moving flash essay with a paper-cut collage. “This entry does something remarkable,” writes judge Nupu Press. “The text gives a moving snapshot of the past, present and future by using vivid, specific examples woven into a smooth narrative. The artwork too shows loving care and deliberation.”
“Do you want to go on a walk?”
Usually, my partner’s familiar question was echoed by a scramble of activity. Limbs, tails, and lanky bodies went flailing as our two greyhounds, Robin and Clark—far more elegant looking than they were actually graceful or coordinated—assembled for their favorite part of the day.
Today, the silence that followed his question felt eerie. For the first time in over a decade, we were dog-less. As the...caretakers? companions? (I hate the word “owners,” but nothing else seems to work, either) of two senior dogs, I had taken to lovingly dubbing our house “puppy hospice.” Pill organizers, special food regimens, and custom harnesses designed to lift our 60-plus-pound geriatric babies up the stairs became routine.
Even as Robin and Clark grew older, walks were a highlight and a staple of our days. On those daily walks, my partner, Caleb, and I met most of the people in our small-city neighborhood—even if we only knew some of them by private personal nicknames like “Best Bud” and “Peroxide Guy.” Those walks gave us screen-free, distraction-free moments to check in with each other on the mundanity of daily life. (“How did you sleep?” “What did you dream about?” “What’s on your calendar for tomorrow?” “What should we make for dinner?”)
Clark died first, in March, from bone cancer. Caleb and I shared a dark joke that Robin, our more independent and aloof dog, the older one, adopted three years before Clark, outlived him out of spite. The next four months felt like a trip backward in time. I tried to reframe Clark’s absence as a strange sort of gift, an opportunity to spend quality, one-on-one time with our first girl.
But Robin’s health declined rapidly, and we lost her just four months later. Suddenly, with no dogs, we had to reason to walk. We could roll over in bed for a few more minutes as the late summer mornings grew dark and chilly. With no dogs waiting impatiently at home after work, we could stay and finish one more assignment, or answer one more email, or get another drink at happy hour.
I grieved for our dogs, but I didn’t realize that I grieved for those walks too. Those everyday, routine moments of calm amid the distractions of the rest of life. So when Caleb asked me to go on a walk yesterday, I said yes. We put on our shoes without fanfare, no over-excited limb-flailing to get in the way, or impatient yelping to hurry us along. No orthopedic dog boots or harnesses to wrangle around wobbly bodies.
Our pace was faster without the dogs’ distracted sniffs and curiosities. I felt disoriented, somehow, unsure of what to do with my hands. But as we walked those familiar paths and settled into that quiet, momentary routine, I knew this might be a step into some new sense of normality.
Christine Ochs-Naderer is a writer, artist, and PhD student in Rhetoric & Composition from Cincinnati, Ohio. Her creative and academic work explore concepts of memory and time, seeking profound and extraordinary moments within the everyday. Christine is especially interested in projects that integrate participatory art, collage, and mixed media into research and writing.
“Paper cut collage is my favorite form of composition. All my collage work is ‘analog’ style—made by hand, with physical paper, photographs, scissors, and glue sticks. Cutting apart images and piecing them back together in new layers and patterns helps me see ordinary moments in new ways. I also integrate collage in my academic work and am hoping to submit a paper cut PhD dissertation in a year or two!
Want more puppy love? Check out a few favorites from our Puppies!!! story collection.
Lovely tribute to Robin and Clark. Losing our precious dogs is so hard. Sending you love
I can totally relate to this essay. We lost Rudy just as the pandemic set in and less than three years later Lucky's little body finally gave out. My heart still hasn't completely healed from two losses so close together. We are also dogless for the moment. I walk faster and listen to music or chat with friends...anything to keep from thinking about my favorite four legged boys and how much I enjoyed those long, sniffy walks along the sea. Thank you for this lovely piece.