Of Grief & Hollandaise

Pete. 199? - 2010

On Sunday my beautiful dog, Pete, died.  On Monday I made Hollandaise sauce. I did this with swollen eyes, shaking hands, throbbing head, nauseous stomach, and empty heart.  I clarified butter, I whisked egg yolks,  I squeezed a lemon, I seasoned my sauce with salt and cayenne pepper. It came out well enough; I suppose it was good.

I didn't do it because I'm going to be tested on it tomorrow in my culinary final. I didn't do it because I was hungry. I suppose I did it because of the amount of precision and concentration required. While in the past I have always cooked to be fully in the moment, this time I cooked to be out of it. I cooked to escape into the cooking, and out of the grief. Just for a minute.

I have never been a fan of using my food blog as a sort of free psychiatric forum. I don't tend to share my problems with many people. I do not, as a rule, wear my heart on my sleeve, and I don't express myself in Hallmark card platitudes. As far as my deepest emotions go, I'm a pretty private person.

But Pete was my best friend. Any of you have ever loved a pet with your whole being know exactly what I mean. My relationship with him went deeper than silly words can express. He was a huge and constant presence in my life.  I am a better person for having known him. He showed me what it means to be truly good and open and unselfconscious and funny and sweet and noble and artless. He gave me all of himself, fearlessly and completely. I am honored that I had the opportunity to know him for just over 10 years, a time that now seems maliciously brief.

So, I am not here to give you a recipe. If you Google "Hollandaise" you will get over 4 million results. You don't need me for that.

Instead, I am here to share Pete with you.  He was, in my unbiased opinion, the very best dog who ever lived.

My constant companion, Pete liked to help me finish my work

Always the gentleman, Pete made room on his bed for the Count

Suffering the indignities of Halloween. Here, Pete is disguised as a duck.

Following me across a stream. He was fastidious about his paws, and hated to get them wet.

As a kitten, my cat Mr. Darcy thought Pete was his momma

Pete liked to make friends in the park, but he was always most focused on his people and his cats

My Santa dog. Christmas is canceled this year.

Pete loved snow.

Pete really elevated the art of lounging in bed

Noble and good

Not in the mood to sit and pose for a glamour shot

A man about town taking a walk in the park. I always loved his gait.

This photo captures exactly how I feel about Pete. He was my perfect boy. I will always miss him.