I Love You All the Time.
Petey Sellers loved Valentine’s Day.
Okay, maybe he didn’t actually know it was Valentine’s Day, but on February 14th, he said “love, love, love!” more than usual. Petey leaned into it with his eyes, goofy grin, and silly prance. He happily posed with a Valentine on social media, was extra sweet to people and pups on walks, and trotted along with his head held high as if to say Hey! This day is about Love! I’m really good at that. Let’s show it!
For me, Valentine’s Day was always hit or miss. Some years it felt important, and other years it slipped by, alerting me to its presence only when I found a Valentine in my mailbox. During years when I had more time, I leaned into my artsy side and wrote songs or made cards; one year I created “10 Things I Love About You” lists for my beloveds; another time I made an illustrated book about the love between an octopus and a bird; and for almost a decade, I didn’t celebrate at all because that date was my then-boyfriend’s birthday, which meant we skipped the holiday, altogether. At the time, it felt like a relief. I was a fan of declaring love anytime it came to me, and if that day happened to be February 14th, great! But if not, that was okay, too.
This year, I was too busy on February 14th to do anything, but I noticed – and missed – my friend. It didn’t really hit me how I’d completely sailed through the holiday until the next week when Portland got eleven inches of snow overnight. It was more than a week later, but something about getting through that storm while dogsitting Petey’s cousin, Atlas, made me miss Petey even more. I was happy he didn’t have to brave the snow while battling cancer, but I missed the ways we’d been together, which were different than the ways Atlas and I were together. Atlas is a sweet dog, but it can be hard to live with a new person, even when they’re you’re Auntie; even if you both have the best intentions, it’s not always easy. We bonded and made progress, had sweet moments and snuggles, and struggled and miscommunicated, but in the end, we did our best. And Petey, of course, was there to help.
Then, a few days later, I discovered a Valentine.
It was the day after the snowstorm.
We just came in from outside, which was always an event. Atlas wore Petey’s winter coat, and with room-temperature water and a towel, I gently melted all the snowballs that were stuck to his legs and paws and dried him off. Atlas always raced around to warm up, and I walked around, too, shedding layers of clothing as I went. When I walked into my office, I saw a blue squirrel Valentine laying in the middle of the floor.
I got chills. Petey.
The card was from a pack of vintage Valentines I bought from Workshop Vintage the week before. I grabbed it and hugged it to my chest, crying. Happy Valentine’s Day, boy! I said. I love you, too! And then I looked around the room. The stack of other animal Valentines was in the office, but they were on the table toward the back, nowhere near the middle of the room. The stack wasn’t close to a heating vent or a window, an outside door, or any other source of breeze, either. I smiled, grabbed a pen, and filled in the Valentine – To: Kari, From: Spirit Petey – and put it on his altar. I didn’t know how much I needed a Valentine, but Petey did – and he delivered. Mom, I heard him say. I love you all the time! It was a good reminder that even though I’d missed Valentine’s Day, and even though he wasn’t here, he still loved me. That’s the beauty of ancestors. Even if I didn’t tend to him daily, anymore, Petey was still around to help, if I needed it.
Part of preparing to have Atlas live with me was picking up all of Petey’s things. I sobbed while I put his blankets and bed away; Petey’s pandas and friends went in two bags and into closets, one in my office and one in my bedroom. I left out a collection of toys I thought Atlas would like, ones that weren’t favorites of Petey’s. Ironically, Atlas loved all the toys that Petey never did; he wanted to chew and destroy while Petey preferred gently tossing and snuggling. I also left out Petey’s bed, the one by my writing spot, and put down striped towels all over the place. Part of it was to cue Atlas where to go, but the other part was to put a mental, visual, and energetic buffer between where Petey was and where Atlas would be. I wanted him to feel welcome. After he went back home, I started crying and didn’t stop for days. Part of it was release, but most of it was grief, reactivated. I was surprised, but rode the wave while I took some of Petey’s things out of the closet, but also left some in. Instead of moving his blanket around the house, I kept it on the bed and decided to buy a bright, colorful pillow for his spot on the couch, instead. A few of the toys came out, and his pandas, but things were different, now. It was nice to see his friends, again, and while I knew I wouldn’t need them forever, it was okay to need them a little while longer.
I planned for this post to go out in February, but now it’s March – and Petey’s six months a spirit. Trees are blooming, proof that we’re making it through all types of winter. During this season, I finally read Wintering by Katherine May. It’s a beautiful book, one I thought I’d finished. But a week ago, I picked it up and discovered there was one chapter left. In earlier months, the book was a friend I spent time with every night, something to look forward to when the other side of the bed was empty. But this last chapter resonated in a way I didn’t expect. May talked about losing her actual voice, which made me think about my voice, too. Not my physical voice, but my voice in the larger sense – my way of being in the world. It had gotten buried, a bit, in February’s storms. Maybe it was the effects of winter, or maybe it was just my first winter without Petey, a wintering of a specific kind.
For twelve years, from November through May, I had Petey by my side for the rainy season. He was my sun lamp, my art museum, my puppet show; my dance party, swim session, and joy on incredibly dark mornings. Part of me knew this, but in the deep winter after the isolation of Covid years and grief, I felt it. But like May, who ends her book on a high note, Petey’s Valentine was helping me end my wintering on a high note, too.
That phrase – I Love You All The Time! – started out being about us but ended up being about self-care. It was a reminder to love myself even when, especially when I was injured, overworked, sad, or feeling weary in my soul. Just like I loved Petey, I could love myself in sunny times and rainy ones, happy ones and grieving times, too. I also think he meant this phrase for you, too, reminder and a pep talk in these times. I Love You All the Time! Petey says. Maybe you need to hear that, today, maybe you need to pass it on, or maybe you need both. Share it! And imagine Petey smiling, ear to ear, tailing wagging, and sending love – whether it’s Valentine’s Day or not.
Links & Love
Workshop Vintage: Audra and Nate’s emporium of love, filled with vintage finds, gems, and lots of curated feel-good things and vibes. Treat yourself.
Raul Campos and Anne Litt on Saturday on KCRW: perfect weekend music for whatever you’re doing, including cheering yourself up on a rainy day!
WFMU’s Downtown Soulville with Mr. Fine Wine: ready for an earlier Friday Night Dance Party? Tune into this at 5:00 on Friday nights.
Dedications
We lost some dear canine friends at the end of last year and in February of this year, all to different kinds of canine cancers. Petey welcomed in each friend, and while the grief is strong, so is the idea of these friends being together, again. And pain-free! Friends, this post is for all of you.
Tiko the Great, Tiko the Brave! I dedicate this post to Tiko, Petey’s friend, who flew on 2/7/23, and to his mom, Malia. I wrote a dedication on Instagram, but we love you and miss you, Tiko! Thank you for being such a good friend to Petey, and then to me when Petey passed. Your mom and I are still walking your streets!
Carter, Mr. Toppers! I also dedicate this post to Carter, who I nicknamed Mr. Toppers, and his warrior Mom, Meggie. I met Carter and Meggie in the Fighting Canine Lymphoma Facebook group, which is a treasure - and the source of true friendships and support. No one understands the journey quite like those who are on it. Carter, I still dance with your mom online! Carter flew on 2/8/23. We love you!
Huck, Huck, the Huckleberry! I also dedicate this post to Huck, early puppy friend and forever friend to Petey and to me, and to my friend and his dad, Greg. Huck was a gentle giant and Petey was a short-long, but together they modeled true friendship and love at all stages of their lives. Such a joy to witness. Huck flew on 11/6/22. We love you!
As always, thank you for reading, commenting, sharing, and subscribing. Like Petey in this pic, let’s get ready to shake off winter and trot into spring! I heart you. Art will return next month.
xoxo, Kari
