Over the years I’ve created about 30 MUTTS comic strips featuring Jane Goodall themes. The very first was a simple daily where my animal activist kitten, Shtinky, tells his friend Noodles that looking at his autographed photo of Dr. Jane Goodall helps relieve his “compassion fatigue.”
That little strip unexpectedly changed my life. Not long after it ran, Jane’s team emailed asking if they could use the image for an event invitation. I was thrilled, and asked if I could send the original artwork to Jane as a gift. Their reply stopped me in my tracks: “Jane will be in New York next week. You can bring it to her yourself.”
That offer changed me forever. When I met Jane, I nervously suggested that she and I should do a book together. She smiled and said she was busy finishing a book of her own, but we should talk again the following year. I went home and reread Reason for Hope, her autobiography. One of the first photos in the book shows a very young Jane with what looked like a giant plush chimpanzee named Jubilee, a gift from her father. Jubilee was created to celebrate the first chimpanzee born at the London Zoo. At that moment, the idea for Me…Jane was born.
Reading about Jane’s childhood felt almost like reading destiny: her fascination with animals as a toddler; becoming a young naturalist (studying, among other beings, chickens and worms); forming an “Alligator Society” so her friends (and little sister) could learn all about the natural world; reading Tarzan and deciding Tarzan had chosen “the wrong Jane”; and training beloved dogs, her favorite being Rusty, whom she fondly remembered as her greatest teacher.
At 26, determined to go to Africa, Jane faced a British government that wouldn’t allow a young woman to travel there alone. So her mother accompanied her. Jane was forever grateful for that support and, for the rest of her years, wherever she was in the world, at 7 p.m. she would raise a small glass of whiskey in tribute to her mother and their time together in Gombe.
Many of these details found their way into my first draft (known as a "dummy") for Me…Jane. A year after our first meeting, Jane returned to New York and I was able to share it with her in person. She read it quietly, then looked up and said, “I didn’t wear a bow in my hair.” I had drawn her throughout the book as a child with a neat little bow, which I’d seen in a photo from Reason for Hope. I awkwardly told her so. “That was the photographer’s bow!” she laughed. “I wore a sensible clip.” Naturally, the final book features young Jane Goodall with a sensible clip.
Another year passed and I was able to show Jane an advance copy of Me…Jane. I held my breath as she read it. When she finished, she smiled and said, “It’s my life and your pictures.” I can’t tell you how much that meant to me.
Me…Jane led to other wonderful projects. One of the most rewarding came when The Kennedy Center approached me about turning Me…Jane into a musical. (The same team that had adapted The Gift of Nothing reunited for it.) Just before opening night, we learned that Jane would actually be there. Jane traveled about 300 days a year, so the odds were slim — but there she was. I anxiously sat next to her as her childhood unfolded on stage. As Jane was always 100% honest with her opinions, it was quite stressful for me. At the end, she said she loved it and even stayed to speak to the audience. In true Jane fashion, she hopped up on a chair to give an impromptu speech.
While she spoke, a therapy dog crawled through the crowd and lay at her feet.
Since then, I’ve been lucky to see Jane at least once a year. The last time was just ten days ago at a small interview event in New York City. She mentioned that her mother had lived to 98, and we all took comfort in thinking we’d have more time with Jane. I had to leave early and missed the opportunity to speak with her afterwards. But at one point Jane walked from the stage area, saw me, and took the moment to kiss my cheek. And then she continued on. I didn’t know it at the time, but now I feel she was saying goodbye.
Last night at 7 p.m., I went to a local restaurant, sat at the bar, and ordered a whiskey. I don’t drink and never really have. But I wanted to raise a glass to my dear friend and mentor, Dr. Jane Goodall.
I don’t know how to imagine this world without Jane Goodall, but I do know this: we must honor her legacy, and we must carry on her mission. She had so much hope and we must not disappoint Jane.
— Patrick
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