I originally drew this piece as part of a children's book I was writing. It was a love letter in equal parts to my dog, to Oregon and to all the homes I've built with those around me.
Every Saturday my boyfriend, his dog Khloe and my dog Coolidge ride out to Noti from Eugene. After growing up in Boston, most cities feel smaller and slower, attributes that make them more comfortable and approachable to me. Eugene is the kind of place where if you stay there long enough, you are bound to run into someone you know every time you go out. To me that has always made it a friendly, knowable city. Leave Eugene and the land is more rural, the city buildings fall away into rolling hills and open marsh land. Keep driving and you’ll come to deep, verdant pine forest with homes tucked away behind its boughs. One of these homes belongs to the Schillings. They are the kind of family I’ve always held dear, honest, kind, and welcoming. Their home is nestled on 29 acres of forest, pond and river. It’s the kind of place I could stay forever and never even noticed time had passed. The property is dotted with dog kennels and their drive opens into a barnyard with goats, a horse named Party, peacocks, ducks, Slippers the rooster and on occasion – pigs. Keep walking and you’ll come to a hill that rolls down to an open field, ringed with canine agility equipment. To your right you’ll see a large pond, at times filled with joyous, leaping dogs. Seeing Coolidge race towards the water makes my own heart soar. So contagious and unadulterated is a dog’s joy. Each Saturday, our whole pack rumbles down the drive, pads through the barnyard, ambles down the hill and we begin to practice sitting, heeling, jumping, stays and downs at dog class with the Schillings. Needless to say, Saturdays have quickly become a pack favorite.
My dog Coolidge is a fiend for sticks and isn’t shy about corralling into you for cuddles once he’s been throroughly soaked by pond water. He is fiercely loyal, and exuberantly loving. It’s the genuine, unfiltered kind of love only animals are capable of giving. No matter if you're the queen of England or just got fired, they are always their truest selves. It’s the kind of love that looks like Coolidge bringing me a pine cone from the yard if I’m sad, or leaning into my hugs or my hips while he sits patiently beside me. Needless to say, days I get to spend with him, Brian and Khloe are good ones.
There is a sprawling quality to building a home. For one, you get to comfortably sprawl your things on the kitchen table, or drape yourself on a couch. You get to share meals, and space, but most importantly you get to share yourself. It happens slowly, then all at once. Coolidge has showed me so much about how to be as close to my truest self as possible. I know that I feel at home when I have Coolidge curled up next to me on the train, in my bed or under my desk at the office. Home is portable and I find it most when I'm with animals like the ones in this illustration.