The Portrait that Prompted the Collection - Artist Anne Aderholdt One of my first memories is shopping with my grandmother in Gimbels Department Store in Midtown Manhattan. Given that they closed in 1986, I couldn’t have been older than five. I was a kid who loved all stuffies, from Pillow People and Care Bears to Pound Puppies and Popples, and I was ecstatic at the chance to bring home a stuffed bear from the iconic store. But I struggled to choose just One. As a sensitive c

Welcome to "Liz's" Favorite Things! None of the products I feature are sponsored (or likely even know they're here, for that matter). These are just some of my genuine favorite things, and I love a good game of Adult Show-and-Tell. Ring made with a clipping of Tovi's hair At the time of his passing, Tovi's veterinarian clipped a patch of his hair, which, eight years later, remains carefully sealed in a Ziploc freezer bag and still carries his scent! I spared a few strands and

Screenshot - Adopt-a-Pet Historically, self-rehoming has been viewed as irresponsible and even dangerous, but times are changing, and today, it’s part of the solution when done responsibly. Let me be very clear, though: Self-rehoming will not be appropriate in every situation, but when the circumstances align, shelters are educating owners about safe and responsible self-rehoming strategies, and it’s been a major game-changer. How did we get here? Animal welfare organizations

Photo by Amy Mc Beyond the Shelter: The Evolving Role of Self-Rehoming in Animal Welfare Historically, self-rehoming has been viewed as irresponsible and even dangerous, but times are changing, and today, it’s becoming part of the solution when done responsibly. In fact, you might be surprised to learn that the first question many shelters are asking when an owner reaches out to surrender their pet is whether they can keep the pet in their care while they look for a new home.

Photo by Author "Pet Bereavement Box" When I am in the presence of a person grieving the loss of their beloved pet, I suddenly forget everything I know about grief and find myself at a loss for words. Like really stumbling on my words. Being a witness to big emotions feels uncomfortable and awkward. Yes, I’m referring to myself here— someone whose life is devoted to studying pet loss. In the company of someone else’s grief, I feel helpless, so naturally, I put an insane amoun

“…The greatest gift he gave me: To love so much that the mess around me didn’t matter.” Photo by author I didn’t expect to fall in love; we rarely do. I met Dusty a few weeks before his 14th birthday. It was his 4th admission to the shelter after being originally surrendered in 2016 at the age of 10, but this time he was classified as “end of life.” I was initially drawn to him because he eerily resembled my soul dog, Tovi, who died years earlier, and if I’m honest with mysel

Photo by author Today is the first anniversary of Dusty’s death. I adopted him at age 14, and he was my dog for 84 days. I knew it would prove challenging to adopt a third dog — a hospice dog — already having two young dogs at home, but my rational mind lost this battle. This fragile creature had only three teeth, his front tooth protruding out of his mouth like a dagger and a tongue that wouldn’t stay in his mouth because he had no teeth to support it. As a kid, I always cho

Photo by EKATERINA BOLOVTSOVA from Pexels I had a routine that anchored me during the extended time Tovi was hospitalized. The hospital offered a Keurig machine and a large selection of K-Cups on a shelf in the waiting area to accommodate pet owners in fragile states who were anxiously waiting — often for long periods of time — for any update on their pet. While I waited for a vet tech to bring him out during my morning visits, I brewed a desperately needed cup of coffee to c

Photo by Yaroslav Shuraev from Pexels I carried an umbrella with me knowing there was a possibility of light rain, but I could never have expected the downpour we would soon walk into. It came out of nowhere; a loud and fierce rain. Instinctively, Millie took cover under a tree in an unknown yard and wouldn’t budge. Her body stiff, soaked, and shaking; tail tucked against her underbelly. Without a thought, I extended my umbrella, knelt down, and held it over her wet body. She

Jordon and Keys Circa 2002: I briefly traveled to Israel during my sophomore year of college. During that trip my best friend and I met a musician who we quickly found out lived in a neighboring town to ours in America. I instinctually commented, “Small World!” He corrected me, “It’s not a small world. It’s huge, infinite. We just get pushed in the right direction.” From that day forward those words became a part of me. I wore them like an invisible tattoo and for better or w