And now for a behind-the-scenes ceramic animal story. While we were working on this, something unfortunate happened that merits a little explanation and a few sentimental words.
…this happened:
Since I’m still not ready to talk (or write) about it in depth, here’s John’s depiction of how the tragedy occurred:
Alas, my favorite giant ceramic dog (snagged from HomeGoods three years ago for just 29 bucks) sadly lost his face. In the words of the world’s most famous blogger, it sucked and then I cried.
There’s a small candlelit vigil going on in our house this evening. Goodbye, Mr. Ceramic Dog — you were a delightful, low-maintenance companion who never barked, never needed a walk, and somehow made our hallway feel more like a home. We’ll remember your glossy glaze, your generous size, and the way you once anchored that awkward corner so perfectly.
I’m planning to try gluing him back together. Some of the fragments are tiny and delicate, so it may take time and patience to reassemble him in a way that looks decent and holds up. I’ll sort, photograph, and label each piece, test a few fitting arrangements, and use a strong ceramic adhesive if the pieces align properly. If the break is too complex, I’ll consider other options: turning the remains into a mosaic, using the fragments in a planter, or finding another creative way to preserve his memory while keeping the shards safely out of reach.
In the meantime I’ll be found pacing the house, gently shaking my head, and whispering “why?” at regular intervals. That said, life goes on — and so does the rest of the decor. I’ll clean up the mess, sweep and vacuum any tiny shards, and take a breath. Just kidding, I’ll live.
There are a few practical lessons from this little domestic tragedy that others might find useful. First, heavy or large ceramic decor placed on high-traffic routes can be vulnerable; consider putting items like this on a lower shelf or in a more protected spot. Second, if you do plan to attempt repairs, collect all the pieces immediately, keep them in one labeled container, and handle them with care. Third, when working on home projects, keep pets and children away from recently moved decor until everything is stable.
Emotionally, the incident is a reminder of the odd attachments we form with objects. A ceramic dog is, objectively, a simple decorative piece. Yet it provided familiarity and a little bit of joy every time we passed it. Losing it feels disproportionate only because it had accumulated small memories: where it sat, the day we brought it home, and the way it completed the hallway vignette. Those are the things we miss most — not the object itself but the comfort of a finished room.
If the repair goes well, I’ll share an update and some photos of the process. If it doesn’t, I’ll share what I learned and how we repurposed the pieces. Either way, this will be one of those minor domestic disasters that ends up as an amusing anecdote later on.
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