Real Magic #5: April 16, 2021

On April 16, 1996, the canine love of my life was born. If he were still alive, Bunker Hill would be 25-years-old today. This photograph was taken by a photographer named Bev Sparks, who I’d hired solely to capture his essence. She did exactly that, and I am forever in her debt. This photo became the cover of Dog Medicine, and it captures him so beautifully. I still miss him, and I am so grateful for him. 

When I hired Bev, I remember feeling a little embarrassed, because who hires a dog photographer? In the late nineties, very few people did. But I already knew that Bunker’s time with me would be too short. I knew that at age three or four, he was at his prime. And I knew our connection was transcendent. So, I am reminding you (and myself) today that the thing you want to do but worry it may be misunderstood or seem strange: Do it anyway. Write it anyway. Say it anyway. Be it anyway. That’s your path. Keep going.

Happy 25th Birthday Bunker!

8 thoughts on “Real Magic #5: April 16, 2021

  1. Thanks for this beautiful post. I fell in love with Bunker while reading Dog Medicine. I have felt his presence off and on over the years since. Sometimes he comes for a car ride with me. He was a true Bodhisatva. I send love to you and your beautiful Bunker Hill.

  2. Happy birthday, beautiful and soulful Bunker! Thank you, Julie, for telling your story. I’ve recommended and gifted your book to friends so many times! Here’s to the little winks we get from our beloved furry soulmates when they’re no longer with us; may you be surrounded by them, always!

  3. I loved that boy, Bunker, and what he did for you and for all of us. He was loving and courageous. He was there for you until he could no longer be physically, but he is still there for you in spirit. Celebrating his birth and his life is such a wonderful thing.

  4. I had my own Bunker. It was a pug who slept on top of my head for the 3 years I spent in bed. After being discharged from a psychiatric hospital, with 5 medications & the name of a therapist, Gracie, my own Bunker absolutely danced when I came home & was my “…old…” self.
    RIP ole Bunker. And Gracie too.

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