Bishop & Wilde Books

It’s a bleak spring. Zooming out, in a time of war, how can any of us be at peace?

And zooming into my little world, my wife and I (and our other dog and cat) said goodbye to our pup, Clyde. He was somewhere between 14-20, the silliest goof, a mean little man, and we adored him endlessly. He ran away the day we adopted him, snuck out through our fence and we chased him to no avail. We stayed up nearly the whole night, bought waterproof flashlights and looked for him in the pouring rain.

We called his foster moms the next day to enlist their help and we scoured the neighborhood with their dog as well as a friend’s dog who was training as a scent hound. But it was me who finally spotted him curled up on a neighbor’s outdoor couch.

Despite this, it was Lindsay he was attached to—her shadow, a constant comfort, growling at anyone or anything that came too close—with some exceptions.

Anytime we were outside the house he loved me just as much, and the only bright spot of Lindsay traveling or being away from home was Clyde’s transfer of affection to me.

One of my best friends said his snuggles made her feel like the most special person in the world. It’s true. They did.

I’m so glad he got to experience Bishop & Wilde. Here he is almost exactly a year ago with Lindsay and our other dog, Maybelle, everyone helping bring the shop to life.

He came to the shop other times, of course—always when the shop was closed—though a few people actually got to meet him one day when he was with me after a morning vet appointment. I was so proud of him. He let me hold him while I rang up customers, sat on the window seat with me—I don’t think he growled one time.

Clyde, I’ll miss you the rest of my days.

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Okay, after so much heaviness, I’ll share a few more photos—this time of springtime sweetness, starting with cookies made for us after Clyde’s passing by a friend I met through the shop. And Frankie, our cat, who needed to be in the photo.