12/28/2021
It is with great sadness and a sense of joy at a life well lived that I inform you that Abby’s Otis Redding Dean (a.k.a. Otis, Oates, Oates-Ma-Goats, Bubba Gump, His Lordship, Odysseus, Noodle, Nugget, Little Man, Old Man, Kid) has left this earth and begun his next adventure.
Dog, family, friend, hero, hunter, brother, pet, companion, coworker, colleague, canine, my kid.
He will be missed.
Otis died after a week of being surrounded by family, eating nothing but treats and meats, and enjoying cuddles and a New York strip steak and a plate of bacon as his final farewell meal. He was 14 and a half. He is survived by his brother Busby.
I owe Jan Hartley who convinced me to “go look at a dog” despite my better judgment (which just goes to show how poor my judgment was at the time) and introduced me to the best friend I’ve ever known and best decision I’ve ever made. When Otis arrived, I was angry, heartbroken, lost, adrift, and in pain. This little dog provided a center of my world and a north star all at once. He saved me.
Thomas Goehring once told me that a bunch of my freelance hands were ready to find someone else to work for and then Otis arrived and they saw a different side of me that was kind, caring, empathetic and selfless. Many of those people continued to work with me for the next decade and still continue to be trusted friends to this day.
Otis was first and foremost a theater dog. He took full time residence at The Public Theater, LAByrinth, The Ride, Berkeley Rep and Streb before his retirement in 2019 after his back legs began to give out. He made his stage debut at the final dress of Little Flower of East Orange when he jumped up on stage to chase a tracking moving light only to have our director, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, remove him from the stage and not so kindly inform me that “your mutt got loose.” Three days later during notes he was lying onstage trying to lick Phil’s face who smiled and said “I’ll pet you, but I’m not gonna make out with you.” He had a way of making you forgive him. Probably those soft expressive ears.
He almost wasn’t mine. Within 3 months of our companionship Edward Albee looked at me with Otis sitting in his lap and remarked then asked; “What a fine specimen. Can I keep him?” Not gonna lie, for a moment I considered it. A life with Albee would have been pretty cool.
Otis took no prisoners. His final kill count was 8 mice, 4 rats, 1 squirrel, and regretfully one cat (unconfirmed). His last kill came in March of this year when he tracked, cornered, and killed a mouse…without use of his back legs.
Truth be told, when his mobility first deteriorated in March of 2021 I thought he was going to die in a week. I made appointments and preparations. I fed him a steak dinner and the next day he rebounded, probably in the hopes of another steak. The past 9 months have truly been a blessing for both of us. I owe a huge thanks to Tommy Hauge for helping me to keep him happy and healthy through that time.
And I owe a huge thanks to all of you. That dog was incredibly well loved. And he loved each and every one of you. Most importantly, he reminded me of what my own love is capable of. Otis saw me at my absolute worst and still loved me as fully and thoroughly as he could and when he saw me at my absolute best, he loved me just the same. I learned to love others through their hardships, trials, and tribulations and to give them the opportunity to rise above. His patience and love permeated me and helped me to crawl out of my isolation and into the arms of a loving community. It takes a village and this little dog helped build my own theater family far and wide.
Thank you all. I’m sorry for your loss. Our loss.
