Listen to my full speech from The Humane Society’s National Conference in D.C. this past weekend.

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As you might have seen on my Instagram or remember from last week’s email, I had the honor of providing the keynote at The Humane Society’s annual Take Action for Animals conference. If you are unfamiliar with HSUS’s work, they are one of the most important and influential animal advocacy groups in the world. Their impact includes the enactment of important legislation (e.g., getting chickens out of cages, etc.), the support of rescue organizations all over the world, and the rehoming of countless abandoned dogs and cats.

Needless to say, I was quite intimidated by the engagement. The people sitting in the audience–what could they possibly learn from me? I was the student. They were the heroes.

But, as I started putting some thought into my speech (they wanted 30 whole minutes on veganism and advocacy!), I realized that I had an opportunity to share a story with people who loved animals as much as I did. What a gift this was! I thus decided to tell them a story that I’d previously been unready to share:

The story of my Rudy.

As some of you may remember, I lost Rudy two years ago. The subsequent year and a half was one of the most difficult times in my life. But I didn’t feel comfortable sharing that with many people (other than Anthony and my therapist), because I was worried that my grief “didn’t make sense,” that I was “too sad” over “just a dog.”

But I knew that of all the people on earth, the folks who have committed their lives to saving animals… Well, they would understand.

So, I put pen to paper and prepared the following:

Hear my keynote address below, on Spotify, Apple, or wherever you get your podcasts!

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How To Be a Better Hooman.

The following is a short excerpt from the speech:

I stopped flossing the day that Rudy died.

I’d gotten into a great dental routine–used an electric toothbrush, flossed everyday. Even my dentist noticed–“Your cleanings are taking half the time they used to! Good job!”

But the day that Rudy died, I wrote in my journal:

“It’s not that I’m too tired to scrape my tongue and floss. It’s just that I see no point. Like, doing these “extra” things seems excessive, an unnecessary dive into luxe oral hygiene that’s offensive, antithetical to what is normal right now.”

“What is normal right now…”

That is the thing about death.

There is nothing else in the world that is at once totally natural and extraordinarily unnatural as death.

And for the first time in two decades, my home was completely bereft of any dogs.

It felt, in some ways, like I was mourning the loss of every dog that had ever died in my care, fresh and in new, agonizing ways I’d never experienced before.

But mostly, I just wanted my Rudy back.

This desire was so powerful, so irrational, I felt like maybe if I just wanted it enough, wanted it hard enough, somehow, Rudy would re-materialize in my arms. And when that didn’t happen, I determined that it was imperative, it was a MUST, that I figure out this whole rainbow bridge thing. What happened when dogs died? Where did they go? Because I couldn’t LIVE anymore unless I knew that even if we were separated for now, we would be reunited at some point. I started reading all the Great Books, cracked open my copy of Camus’ essays, pulled together works of Pascal, Montaigne, Hume. I started Googling pet psychics, mediums, astrologists. Watched endless YouTubes of people purportedly reconnecting with loved ones who’d passed away.

Surely, surely, this must be proof, right? That one day, Rudy will be waiting for me at the foot of that Rainbow Bridge. And that I will get to hold his face close to mine, once more.

I am not one to hide from hard truths, though.

And the truth is this: there is no way for me to know with the level of certainty that I desire that the Rainbow Bridge exists. That I will ever see my Rudy again.

So, what is the point of it all?

What is the point of me not eating burgers and bacon and fried chicken?

What is the point of me adopting, and not shopping?

What is the point of me asking people to stop eating burgers and bacon and fried chicken?

What is the point of me asking my followers to please adopt, don’t shop?

What is the point of all of you breaking your hearts, over and over and over again, against this seemingly unending wall of cruelty?

When we know that however much we do, we can never save enough of them.

When we know that however hard we try, we are moving too slow.

When advocacy hits the impenetrable wall of greed, fear, and indifference, we return to this agonizing refrain:

What is the point of it all?

Grief is a weird thing. I’ve lost other dogs, and I’ve lost other humans.

I can categorically say that I have never felt the kind of overwhelming despair I succumbed to when Rudy died. The world was suddenly cloaked in an unmovable darkness.

But life does go on. Friends–you know, the real ones–they reached out. Not with flowers or tears or commiseration. None of that worked for me. And they knew that. But with jokes about how hot and smelly it was in New York, where they lived. How their sister was really annoying and bratty about how much help they needed moving out of their old home. How the Korean drama they were watching was really not up to par with Crash Landing though the male lead wasn’t half bad.

Slowly, with time, I was able to not shelve my grief but pull it into a small enough ball, sock it deep down into the pit of my stomach, until some light managed to slip through.

Eventually, I went back to work. Sharing stories and recipes that were designed to teach people that compassionate eating is not just doable for me, but for everyone. But I took my time, sharing myself at a pace that was perhaps slower than what people wanted, guarding the parts of me that were still tender and recovering.

A full year after Rudy died, I still found myself crying unexpectedly. When I woke up in the morning, in the middle of drafting an email to one of my managers, driving to the gym, on my morning run, sitting in the car with my husband.

I confessed to Anthony 😳, “it’s been one year, and I just… I just want Rudy back.”

He took my hand in his, his round hazel eyes glittering at me, as he said, “Babe… Rudy’s up in heaven bugging the crap out of Daisy right now.”

In life Rudy taught me so much. But with his death, he shared with me his most important lesson. His most difficult lesson.

After over a year of asking myself, “What is the point?,” and after over a year of believing that I had nothing left to give, we adopted Lulu.

Rudy taught me that no matter how dark it got, all the love I’d carried over the years–it hadn’t died with him.

I always had more to give.

Thoughts on This Week’s Podcast & Newsletter?

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Recipe Inspo.

A classic, Kkanpoong Tofu!

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What I’m…

Watching. After I got home from DC, I literally crashed on the couch and Anthony just let Netflix choose something for us: Land of Bad. I don’t watch movies much any more, but this one was actually not at all bad (despite the title)! It’s pretty violent, though, so if you get squeamish with war scenes, you may want to take a pass. Otherwise, if you’re down to watch a pretty brainless action flick, this one’s for you! Watch Now!

Reading. I’ll admit right now that the cover art is horrible, but the Convergence series is GREAT!! I moved right to this series after finishing up Expeditionary Force by the same author and it’s HILARIOUS. I was laughing so hard while listening this morning, I almost tripped on the treadmill! If you’re in the mood for a modern day Arthurian tale with a ton of humor and talking animals, definitely check this one out! Read Now!

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Parting Thoughts.

For this week’s parting thoughts, I’d like to invite you to check out The Humane Society and consider donating to them. Whether you’re a die hard vegan or just someone who loves their dog, every little bit helps and God knows, the world is in dire need of a little more kindness these days.

Wishing you all the best,
-Joanne

Comments & Questions.