In Which I Thank My Assistant

HELLO PALS,

This is a post I didn’t expect to write, at least not in this context—of course my assistant deserves credit for all her hard work and quality supervising, but I didn’t think I’d have to write about her without her help. I’ve spent the last four years doing a lot of one-handed typing so I could pet her with the other hand, or support her head, or wrangle her off the keyboard. Sometimes I’ve had to move my computer to the arm of my chair so she could have her spot on my lap. She’s showed up in pictures, lounged on my clothes, climbed on my shoulders, and provided endless moral support, especially when we lived a thousand miles from home. My assistant, chief supervisor, fitness coach, and style icon was an ex-barncat named Grace O’Malley, and she left us on the summer solstice after days of her favorite things.

Two Grace-approved work outfits, a Sarp Yilmaz-inspired Look, and a Quest for Camelot Halloween costume.

Her favorite things, which included exploring the yard, going for a boat ride, having a Forbidden Sink Drink in the main-floor bathroom, napping in the sun, riding around on my shoulders, and greeting us at the door, weren’t special privileges because we knew anything was going to happen—they were just part of her life, and I’m so glad she lived like that. The last time I saw her alive, she had claimed her favorite spot on my dad’s lap and was luxuriating there with her chin up, eyes closed, looking incredibly, incredibly happy. She seemed totally normal until moments before she died just a few hours later.

A five-a.m. work-from-home supervisor, perfecting a costume flatlay, and contemplating some Wardrobe Analysis.

Grace O’Malley lived life on her own terms. While Sally insisted on being her best friend, Grace insisted on being adopted—she’d come flying onto my truck hood the minute I pulled into the barn, and jump in the cab when I opened the door. She wasn’t afraid to slap anyone who annoyed her—from Sally, to my sister’s giant rescued greyhound, to her poor unsuspecting schnauzer cousin. She insisted on fresh water at all times—it didn’t matter if someone had refilled her bowl a few minutes before—and she wouldn’t stop trying to get what she wanted, which was usually somebody’s drink or salami or yogurt. She loved hair ties and helping with laundry and warm laps. She once shrieked with rage when a neighborhood cat dared to walk on her porch, launched herself at the glass door, and then ran to the bedroom window to make sure the other cat was still running away. (It was.) She hated car rides, but loved people-watching at truck stops. She’d cover her eyes with her paw if the light was too bright, and tap us on the head if she wanted attention. She was perfect.

The best part of any outfit is always A Sidekick.

So, Grace O’Malley, thank you for being my faithful assistant. Thank you for sprawling out under my planks and in the middle of muay thai class and having more trust in my balance than I did. Thank you for showing me that there’s joy in each layer of changing the bed, and in hiding under the laundry rack, and pouncing on dryer sheets. Thank you for riding around on the back of my office chair, and making Zoom cameos, and peering into the toilet that time like a tiny plumber. Thank you for moving across the country with me twice, and sitting at the dinner table, and trying watermelon. Thank you for tolerating your theme song, and hustling over for treats, and letting me try to teach you to sit. Thank you for holding my hand with your paw, and racing to the sink in the morning, and supervising. Thank you for all the big and small ways you changed my life, and for insisting on being a part of it.

I remain, always,

YOUR PAL.