This is the final step of my transformation. When we buried Jake in the Bodgea garden I couldn't bear to think of him all alone out there or for that matter myself alone in the house without him. I thought of myself lying over his grave for our mutual protection and comfort. But I couldn't think of myself, human, conspicuously out there day and night. It made more sense to leave myself if I were a dog, out in the garden for Jake, thinking that no one would have a second thought about a dog lying around all day. So I began to build my cerberus. The shoulders and back are the give-away that I am a dog girl. The original sculpture was built over Jake's grave in clay. I haven't been there in many years, I don't know if it still guards. I took a papier mache image from the clay which I brought into the studio, tying it back to a whole piece with cotton fabric, plaster impregnated cheese cloth and finally sheets of fine rag paper. I covered the ghost dog with notes about what I missed most about having Jake with me, just little sad and sweet love notes. I copied the notes onto sheets of thick and softly textured paper to make myself a memory book before sealing the notes with liquin. I brushed the final coating of oil paint onto the body layer by layer, like the best brushing ever, piecing the fur over the curves and onto the planes, becoming by this time quite mixed up as to whether this dog was Jake or me, knowing it didn't really matter because it was clearly both of us, together as long as it will last.
