Profiles

In Memoriam: Hunter

My Pomeranian Chihuahua of the jewelry world

by Marion Fasel

October 7, 2024—Over the years, people often asked me if I took Hunter everywhere. And the answer was “just about.” I liked his company, but I also felt he contributed to every situation. Hunter gave himself jobs to do.

At jewelry previews, before greeting people, he always checked the perimeter of the space, looking under furniture and into vents, places people couldn’t see as well as he could. When he was done, he would report to the security detail and let them know that all was well. I am not sure how Hunter knew who the security was, but he did. Often he would sit by the guard and bond for a moment. Hunter handled the routine so impressively when we visited A La Vieille Russie recently, the guard gave me one of his security company’s lanyards like a medal of honor.

Hunter was not technically trained as a therapy dog, but he understood when people petted his soft fur it made them feel better. And he found those who needed his healing services most. Once, when we were at a big Super Bowl party, he chose to sit next to an elderly lady who at first showed no interest in him. He stayed with her the entire game. When we left, I was told she had just lost her husband.

Hunter and I spent extended periods in Los Angeles every winter. He felt like an athletic California dog on our morning Runyon Canyon hikes. He could not believe his good fortune at Beladora and later Irene Neuwirth when Winnie had a “treat tray” set up for him upon our arrival.

He adored going to back of house areas, like the space at Neil Lane where Liz, Sally and Courtney greeted him, offered him cheese and set up his “camping bowl.” When Suzanne Felsen had a boutique, he joined our conversations by sitting on her big red desk, among the gems. Hunter connected with his French ancestry when we lunched with Lionel. He obsessed over Kate’s backyard in Palm Springs.

At home in New York, Hunter was a legend in the jewelry world. When he made his off-leash entrances at Muse, it was the equivalent of walking into the Cheers bar, where Jennifer and the crew would say his name.

At Ten Thousand Things he felt so cool hustling back to the workshop to see David and Ron who gave him fresh water in a pottery bowl, focused back scratches and treats that were purchased just for his visits. Hunter admired Lorraine Schwartz’s terrier Motek, who had the run of a big office and “plates” on demand.  

Hunter had unique relationships with various friends and family. If we went around the corner to pick up Lynn, he often barked “hello” when she emerged from her building. He wagged his tail with excitement when he spotted Alizabeth half a block away.

John was the only person he jumped all over; he had done it since he was a puppy and knew he could get away with it forever. Playing ball with Brian was great entertainment. But Hunter held the most special place in his heart for my sister, Kimberley, who took supreme care of him when I traveled somewhere he couldn’t go.

I feel so lucky to have found Hunter about 14-years ago. He was adorable and rambunctious. And I knew he had to be trained. So we went to doggy school and did all the classes from Basics to Agility. A private trainer taught both of us how to behave.

I went further and studied YouTube videos to learn tricks like “jump through your arms” and “Bang!” The two years of intensive education built our relationship and created a strong form of communication. I know it shaped his sense of independence and pride.

While Hunter cherished outings, he also enjoyed being at home. He napped near my desk for hours as I wrote books, articles and blog posts. If I stayed at the computer too long, and was late for his afternoon or evening walk, he would assertively tap my leg and get us out of the apartment. 

Like many small dogs, Hunter had a heart condition and breathing issues among other things. He fought them off for years with the help of an excellent doctor.

His age and those problems, however, finally and somewhat suddenly caught up with him in mid-September. After a few days in the hospital, he was in hospice care at home. On September 30th, the day the sixth book he watched me write was scheduled to go to the printer, he died peacefully in my arms.

I will forever be astonished at Hunter’s beautiful soul and his steadfast sense of purpose, how he was determined to stay with me to the end of finishing one more job.

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