Beyond a Cute Dog Painting : Searching the New York Public Library Archives: In Memoriam: Fay 1879

What a discovery

I am always looking for written historical obituaries for dogs, in particular ones that are written by their guardians. My dream would be to search archives all over the world for these tributes.

While looking online in the New York Public Library archives,  I found a citation “In Memoriam : Fay 1879.” The abstract read “One of twenty-five privately published copies of a memorial to the family dog, Fay, who died "of apoplexy" in Brooklyn in 1879. The volume contains a poem on the loss of Fay, and transcriptions of letters written about Fay and his death by his owner, Fred, and by Fred's father. The volume also contains manuscript drafts of the same, as well as two photographs of Fay with Fred.”

Since a trip to New York City was out of the question. I requested a copy of the memorial. Three weeks later, the pdf  arrived in my inbox.   

What a find.  Below is a transcript of the letter Fred wrote to his uncle about Fay’s death along with the poem Fred’s father wrote about Fay. In addition to the letter and poem there were two little photographs. From the 1879 photographs itis hard to tell exactly what Fay looked like, so I painted what I think little Fay may have looked like.    

The letter that Fred wrote to his uncle about the death of Fay on January 19, 1879:

Dear Uncle F,

I have some very bad news to tell you. Wednesday Papa and Mama and Fay went to Marlborough and when they got back to the village Papa let Fay out to walk and get warm as just as they got to the corner by the Presbyterian church,  Fay dropped down dead. Papa thinks it was apoplexy. I buried him in the greenhouse. I wrapped him in a cloth and then put him in a nice box filled with fresh shavings. Papa says I can have another dog but I don't believe there will find another as nice as Fay was.  Frisky is well and as fat as ever.  I am very worried about Fay but I fixed him as well as I could.  I think I must stop now. 

Your nephew,  Fred. 

---

Our Fred, a good warm-hearted boy,

Sadly mourns a much-prized toy , -

‘Twas not a painted spinning top;

‘Twas not a miniature carpenter shop;

‘Twas not a wind-up soldier man,

But the nicest little black - and -tan 

That ever was seen; there are but few

Of strain so high, of blood so blue.

With eyes on bright, such dainty feet,

So lithe and trim with ways so neat;

So nimble and knowing , and found of play -

Dear little doggie: his name was “Fay”

But a culprit only in name was he,

For he was just as grand as a dog could be.  

A happy life it was that he led,

Following his living master Fred

Wherever he went, afar and near,

From fragrant Spring to Autumn sere.

But when at least old Winter chill,

Spread his shroud over valley and hill,

The gentle pet was stricken and died,

And was laid away by the garden side.

Sadly and tearfully he was placed at rest

By the tender hands of the one he loved best.

His tiny voice and pattering feet

Our listening ears no more will greet - 

No more cheat time of its lonely hours,

For he sleeps beneath the Winter flowers.

Interesting Reads

In New Book, E.B. Bartels Explores Loving and Losing Our Beloved Pets

Dogs Can Smell When You’re Stressed Out

How The Royal Connection Brought the Corgi Back Into Fashion