Canine Connections

IF YOU FREQUENT Back Bay, Beacon Hill, or the South End, there’s a good chance you’ve encountered me and my dog, Satchel. His large, teddy-bear-like head, lumbering gait, and fluffy black-and-white coat turn heads. Naturally, questions ensue.

From the very young: “Is that a cow?” (Ha! He’s my city cow.) From the information-minded: “What breed is he?” “How old is he?” “How much does he weigh?” (Saint Bernard/Standard Poodle mix; 8; 110 pounds.) From the curious: “Does he eat a lot?” (No, surprisingly.) Rarely does anyone ask if he’s friendly, because within seconds of hearing “you are the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” he’ll snuggle up for some pets. Satchel isn’t just a fixture of the neighborhood—he’s a conduit for kindness and connection.

DOG ON A MISSION

After living in the Back Bay and, most recently, the South End, I’m convinced that Satchel is part of a vast canine conspiracy whose mission is to mend the growing tears in the fabric of our culture; to forge friendships between people who would otherwise never have noticed one another; to combat an increasing epidemic of loneliness; and to spread generosity and dignity. Sounds like a tall order, I know. But if you own or know a city dog, you know this is true.

My own unexpected journey from a career as a professor of European literature to the owner of a Back Bay dog spa is proof of the conspiracy in action. Let me explain.

It began during the COVID-19 pandemic, that terrible time. I was starting cancer treatment and my husband and I had abandoned our apartment on Commonwealth Avenue for the safety of our second home in Vermont. Since I am temperamentally designed for urban life, I found it difficult to spend whole days (weeks! months!) seeing no one but my husband and, of course, Satchel.

Satchel, on the other hand, used the time to indulge the more philosophical aspects of his personality. He filled the long hours by sitting perfectly still on one side of the patio near a stone pillar, in a pose that we affectionately called “dog-goyle.”

The lack of interaction with other people pained me. We would go for long walks on the nearby country club golf course, letting him run on the now-desolate lawn. When we did see another person, we’d keep our lonely distance, waving to one another across the green, perfectly manicured expanse.

The real sadness, however, kicked in when we would drive down to Boston for my treatments. Seeing the empty spaces made me truly heartsick. Where were the school children? Where was the man playing his stringed instrument in the Public Garden? Where were all the tourists lining up outside Zara and the Adidas Store? Where were the dogs?

SOCIAL LIFELINES

Actually, the dogs and their people were the only ones who did pop out from seclusion, since taking one’s dog out so it can relieve itself isn’t optional. As we gradually came back to Boston more often, we realized that walking Satchel wasn’t only necessary, it was a lifeline. Neighbors and strangers with dogs would inch ever closer to one another (still masked of course) to have conversations. The awful aloneness started to recede. Satchel came out of his meditative shell, as did we all.

It struck me that our dogs were fundamental connectors, even when connecting could be unsafe. So, my husband and I opened Onyva, a Back Bay dog grooming business. We made it a community space, with an art gallery, coffee and snacks, and lots of opportunities for community building (the thing that dogs do best).

Now the city is again filled with dog owners who are interacting, discovering commonalities, and forming connections. It happens to me, too. I’ll share are a few moments with Satchel where one thing led to another.

• While getting coffee at The Thinking Cup, we spy an adorable, super-fluffy strawberry-blonde puppy scampering around on the patio. I run up to pet him, and it turns out that this young dog—Bingo is his name—is on his way to his first groom, at my shop, Onyva. I talk with Bingo’s mom, and learn she’s starting a women’s clothing business. I introduce her to my friends, and she introduces me to hers. We all meet for cocktails and networking. She goes on to be fabulously successful (not a surprise). I had coffee with her yesterday, and she told me, “It all started with Bingo.

• I bring Satchel to one of my favorite boutiques on Charles Street. The owner is smitten with him, and I am smitten with her. We decide to put on a dog fashion show. She curates fabulous clothes for the owners. We put matching accessories on the bigger dogs, great little outfits on the little ones (made for them especially by another incredible local female designer). We hold it at the Liberty Hotel. It’s a hit!

• I meet a woman who is the founder of a nonprofit that provides a day program for young people on the autism spectrum. Turns out her son, who is nonverbal, is a wonderful artist. I offer to have him do an exhibition at Onyva’s art gallery. At the reception, people buy art, play with dogs, smile, and get to know each other.

• We notice that a very popular Beacon Hill dog walker has a lot of great photographs of Beacon Hill/Back Bay dogs on Instagram. We offer to showcase his work in our gallery. At the opening, we meet many of the dogs and owners featured in the photos, some of whom have been his clients for over 15 years. We also hear stories of dogs who have passed away, and everyone shares their memories of not only the neighborhood dogs, but also the neighborhood itself, over the years. Later, he is encouraged and inspired to make a calendar of his photographs, which is currently for sale at Onyva.

• These are just a few examples of how Satchel and his friends help me to reach across the imaginary divides that can make the city feel like a cold place. The intrinsic friendliness of dogs brings out the best in all of us. So don’t be surprised when you discover that some magical relationship in your life can be traced back to a canine companion.