About Letters to Pushkin
Read about:
The Letters
On Sunday morning, February 1, 2009, Pushkin the beagle went to sleep in my arms
for the last time. Three and a half weeks later, it was Ash Wednesday, which
marks the beginning of the Catholic Church’s Lent season. When you’re younger,
Lent is usually about giving up something, such as giving up chocolate for forty
days. As adults, though many still opt to give up something, others take a more
proactive approach: perhaps making the effort to say one kind thing to their partner
each day or to volunteer at a local soup kitchen. Lent, in this way, becomes
a time of ritual and reflection culminating in the observance of Holy Week and Easter
Sunday. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to commit to writing a letter
each day to Pushkin. The collection begins on Ash Wednesday, February 25th,
and the final letter was written on Easter Sunday, April 12th; all together,
there are forty-seven letters.
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The letters, as a collection, document one experience with grief. These letters
were never intended for publication; they were intimate conversations that I wrote
out each day in a journal. However, a friend suggested to me afterwards that I share
my letters and experience to possibly help others grieving over the loss of a companion
animal. With Pushkin as my inspiration, I pondered the big questions of life
and death, welcomed the love and support that sometimes came from unexpected places,
and embraced the changes that inevitably come with such a dramatic life event.
Reading back over the letters myself, it is interesting for me to see how my own
mind works, moving as it did from a state of abstraction to a restored state of
equanimity, and finding a way to become more hopeful and joyful again. Ultimately,
that is why I decided to share my experience in writing them. Pushkin was
not a story; Pushkin was a real life, and a life that touched me and changed me.
At the end of this all, I am still not quite sure what heaven is like, or if he
can hear me when I speak to him, but I do hope that somehow he knows, every time
someone reads through these letters, how very much he is missed and still loved.
To read the first letter from Letters to Pushkin, please
click here.
Pushkin Discorfano Webster
Pushkin and I first met each other on Thanksgiving weekend in 1999. I’d already
been to the animal shelter on 110th St. in New York City. I was eager
to take on the responsibility of caring for a dog, but I needed a smaller dog that
would be suitable for my Upper East Side apartment. At the time, the shelter
didn't have any small dogs, so I left disappointed. However, a staff member
suggested I contact Bideawee, a humane organization located in midtown. The next
morning, I called their center on 38th St., not far from the United Nations.
I asked if they had any small dogs, to which the person replied, “Well, we have
a beagle...”
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“A beagle! I’m jumping on the subway right now! Do not give him to anyone
else, please!” I will never forget that first time our eyes met.
Pushkin was about two and a half years old and called “Dennis” at the time, and
he was being held in a pen with a few larger dogs. He looked up with his big
deer-like eyes, and I became an instant believer in love at first sight. But
there was a catch: he was undergoing treatments for heartworm, which meant he couldn’t
come home with me for several weeks. So until I was able to bring him home
on January 22nd, we got to know each other during my lunch hours, when
I would go to the clinic and take him for walks; and on the days he wasn’t feeling
well or was quarantined because of the treatment, I just sat with him and sang to
him. Pushkin proved himself, this time and many times thereafter, to be a
resilient but gentle soul. He was feisty. He was peaceful. He
was funny. I hope that his many inspiring qualities come through in the letters
as I’ve written them.
I was blessed to have Pushkin in my life and in my home for just over nine years.
The last pictures of him that I have were taken at his birthday party on January
22nd, 2009. The penultimate photograph shows us gathered around and singing
Happy Birthday to him, with the candles on his cake lit up. In the very last picture,
he's still in my arms and we're leaning in closer to the cake, with the candles
just extinguished by everyone's combined exhale on his behalf. After another
week that included a few good runs and some nice naps in the sunshine, our time
to say goodbye had come. Pushkin remains a part of our family and home...
always.
Sharon Discorfano
A graduate of Rice University, I have a Masters degree in Literature from Georgetown
and a Masters degree in Industrial/Organizational Psychology from New York University.
I currently reside in Tucson with my husband and Pushkin’s brothers, Otis and Galileo,
where I am the owner of Lyric Yoga and Wellness. Since Pushkin's passing,
I completed Humane Society University's Advocacy Management program and am now
a law student at the University of Arizona, with the intention of specializing in
Animal Law.
Visit www.sharondiscorfano.com to
read my blog series on cruelty-free living.
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