Dreyfus is a silver Labradoodle who adopted my cousin Melinda after spending the first few months of his puppyhood neglected in the backyard. Today he is a handsome, well-behaved therapy dog, thanks to his mom’s dedicated training efforts! Nice save, Melinda! :-)

For anyone keeping score, my Poodle-doodle Rosie is Dreyfus’ second cousin. As genealogy buffs, we make a point of knowing these things!

I was pleased when Mike and Pat’s mom asked me to do their memorial portrait because I knew them personally from their young kittyhood. They adopted my friend in the early 1980s. I was their cat-sitter when their human family travelled.

Both were affectionate cats, but expressed it in different ways. Pat was the snuggly one, who installed herself on your lap the moment you sat down and didn’t leave until forcefully removed! I never saw such a tiny cat — she could easily curl up in a cigar box!

Burly Mike showed his affection by bringing home the fruits of his hunting expeditions. On one house-sitting stint I was getting more and more concerned about the noxious odors coming up from the basement. I looked everywhere to find the culprit, emptied dehumidifiers and threw bleach water down the floor drains. The stench just grew stronger! Finally, I gave up and asked my dad to come help me figure out what was happening, so my friends didn’t return to a rotting house. Alas, he found the problem: Apparently Mike had brought home his trophy — a squirrel — and deposited it behind a piece of furniture in the basement for safe-keeping quite a few days earlier! Phew-y!

Memorial Portrait of Mike and Pat, Susan Donley, 2007. Collection of Catherine Raphael. Graphite pencil on 11×14 inch 100% rag paper.

For most of my life, Valentine’s Day has been closely associated with dogs (keep the wisecracks to yourself, please! ;-). The toy poodle I grew up with (“Fi-Fi” naturally — we kids got to name her!) was born on February 15, close enough to be considered our Valentine dog.

Fast-forward a dozen years. In May 1977, I gave my dad an Irish Setter puppy for his birthday (after prudently securing my mom’s blessing). I neglected to find out exactly what date the backyard-bred litter was born beyond “mid-February.” We were free to choose a birthday for our little girl, so we choose Valentine’s Day. Within days of her arrival, she revealed her name, Maggie Magee, short for Mary Magdalene. We knew we would be doing a lot of forgiving… Later as an adolescent, she acquired another nickname, “The Teenage Werewolf”!

As each Valentine’s Day passed, against all odds, Maggie matured into a wonderful dog with a gorgeous red coat and a patient, loving disposition. Every Valentine’s Day we celebrated with a doggie sundae — a full container of raspberry yogurt that she didn’t have to share with anyone! I called her “My Big Red Valentine.”

Maggie’s life ended too soon — she had just turned 8 years old when she died of kidney failure. One month later to the day, my dad died, also too young at 55. The significance wasn’t lost on us. Our Big Red Valentine went ahead to meet him. We still picture the two of them walking around the fields of Heaven all day.

Do you have a Valentine memory involving one of your pets? Please consider sharing it in the comments below!