Corbin Gurkin

It is with tear stained cheeks we share that our beloved Waldorf is at rest now. If you know our family, then you know that before there was Emerson, there was Waldorf. Waldorf and I met right after college - I was walking down the street in the west village and admired two brussels griffons. A conversation ensued, I scribbled down the breeder's information, and a few months later I was united with Waldorf at Newark airport. He was the sweetest little guy whose first momma called "vocal" but who I only ever found to be the deepest of souls. We spent our post-college days together navigating the subway to Washington Heights, going to the movies at Regal on Broadway, cuddling together after a breakup, creating impromptu photo shoots in pumpkin patches. And when Thatcher met Waldorf, he too was completely enamored by our good boy who faked a limp so he needn't walk in the snow in Maine or who simultaneously rolled his eyes with his dad when mom dressed him in elaborate sweater ensembles from the dog department at Harrod's. The things you do for your first born. Waldorf always just hung his head a bit and said, okay mom. And to be expected of our most noble and caring boy, Waldorf waited to say it was time until after I photographed my last wedding of the year this past weekend, knowing the grief would be unbearable and I would need time. He waited until I had Emerson knowing I'd need help with the heartbreak of his absence, that there would need to be some extra special joy to fill his enormous absence in our lives. He waited until the one sunny day this week so that we could see his soul shimmering in the twirling fall leaves and in the V of geese flying overhead. We will look for him in all these places. We will look for him in Emerson's eyes and in the deer at dusk and keep close all our sweet memories of our gentle souled pup. Perfectly drawn by @karinapuentearts Friends, we are taking the weekend off to mourn our little one. Apologies if replies are a bit slow this week.