And no. This isn’t another post about the temperature in my office today. (Although I’m pretty sure it’s hovering somewhere in the teens. Thank goodness for pants!)
We said goodbye to our dog Boo last Sunday. A tough call to make, and we left the vet’s office feeling pretty crushed. Anyone who has lost a dog, cat, or iguana knows what I’m talking about. Even after a short period together, as with our dog Ginny, saying goodbye to a furry friend is rough.
But then Monday morning rolled around, and the world really felt off-kilter. No pitter patter of Basset Hound feet or jangling of dog tags to accompany the alarm clock. (Or sometimes before the alarm clock.) And walking past the end of the bed without walking around a dog bed was a new experience. Who knew there was so much floor space?
However, not until I came home that afternoon did I realize just how different the house felt. How having that extra warm body changes your perception of the space. How we’ve adjusted each room to accommodate having a dog (or two). The house is still our house. We still live there. But not having Boo there has created a shift in how that space feels.
Architecture photos of these extraordinary houses all over the world emphasize the beauty of the architecture. Expansive windows looking out to a fantastic landscape. Beautifully arranged furniture with the perfect pillows and rugs. Lavish bathrooms with tubs to die for.
Except so often the spaces look sterile and un-lived in. To some extent, they have gone from being a house to being a museum. I’ve even written about the Architectural Digest photo shoots of houses that I’m pretty convinced no one lives in. Like the client with their China beautifully arranged in glass front cabinets who kept all their Tupperware hidden. The spaces aren’t real.
So what would happen if we threw in a dog or two? Or a cat? Or maybe just a hyperactive gerbil? Architectural Record, I’m looking at you. Why not make the space more real for the readers?
When we had our house photographed post-renovation, we didn’t think about having two large Basset Hounds roaming around. Or the potential for them to sort of photobomb. Consequently, there’s a wonderful shot of our kitchen from the living room and sprawled out unceremoniously across the sofa is Boo’s sister Luna.
Sure the house looked great. And we were very proud of how the renovation turned out. But having Luna as part of the scene added a warmth to what would have been an otherwise sterile picture. A warm body in a cool space.
We will miss Boo terribly. Although I’m sure James would tell you we’re doing a pretty good job of it at the moment. Yet before too long, I have no doubt we’ll invite another rescue or two to hang out with us. We are dog people after all. The feel of the space will shift again, and we’ll wonder how something as simple as a dog can make a house a home.