I am a minimalist, and a picky one. If something is not nailed down, it’s bound to end up in the donate pile at some point. I am quite sure I could pack up my whole house for a move within a day. I hate clutter.

I am also not a fan of “cute”. You won’t see a “Live, Laugh, Love” sign in my home. I probably haven’t worn pink or pastels since my mom chose my clothes. I am a voracious reader – but not of fantasy or make believe. I prefer documentaries to movies. Even my choice in art (photography) is evidence of my need for realism. (Wow, do I sound like a bore!)

But in the last few years, something changed. I have found myself buying anything with a black lab on it that I stumble across. And being that the black lab seems to be as American as apple pie and baseball these days, my collection has become quite significant. I have black lab wine glasses; black lab socks and slippers; black lab hoodies and shirts; black lab ornaments on my Christmas tree, and on and on. I have also branched out to dog-related signs hanging in my home (gasp!). Who have I become?!

My collecting started when Murdock was still here – but has certainly picked up steam since his departure. Nothing I have captures what Murdock really looked like – with his unique fluff (he was part chow-chow); the white spot on his chest; his brown eyes that made me melt; or, of course, his personality. I have yet to find a black lab wearing a blue collar (his signature color) to add to my collection. But somehow, being surrounded by images of “him” brings be comfort – or maybe I am trying to make that so.

I feel the same when I see a black lab out for a walk – my heart melts knowing how very special that dog must be to share a likeness with the love of my life. And my heart reaches out to their mom/dad, silently sending them a reminder to cherish every single second.

I don’t know who this sudden cutesy version of myself is. Well, without Murdock, I really don’t know much about myself anymore. But, there are worse things than a black lab-centric life. So, whether it’s a reminder or a comfort or some version of searching, I will just go with it. As I have written so many times, grief is the way I get to love Murdock now. And if grief compels me to be a tchotchke lady, so be it.  So, excuse me while I go make some tea in my black lab mug, put on my black lab pajamas, crawl under my black lab blanket, and look at pictures of my sweet boy, to remember the great fortune I have had in being his mom.