Charles Barsotti, a cartoonist whose drawings were a staple of The New Yorker magazine for decades, died on June 16 at the age of 80. While his name may not be familiar to some, most readers will recognize his cartoons—simply drawn with uncommon wit—nearly fourteen hundred of them appeared in that magazine over the years. Many featured his trademark round-nosed dogs—lying on a psychiatrist couch, gathered around conference tables, appearing before judges in court. One shows a dog dressed in standard issue spy garb confessing “They rubbed my tummy, chief—I told them everything.” Barsotti’s cartoons were poignant and sweet, delivering a good deal more than laughs. The best had a short story quality about them.
The Bark interviewed Barsotti in 2007 upon the publication of a collection of his dog cartoons entitled, They Moved My Bowl, the conversation, like his art, was spare and humorous. We asked him about the book’s dedication “to the memory of Jiggs, the world’s greatest dog.” The cartoonist replied, “Any kid who doesn’t think his dog is the world’s greatest dog is weird. Jiggs was part Dachshund, part mystery meatloaf. Jiggs was run over and killed when I was 10. In my book, there’s a cartoon with St. Peter and a dog named Rex who is a stand-in for Jiggs.” It dawned on us that one of our favorite Barsotti cartoons was autobiographical. We ended our interview by asking him his idea of dog heaven … he replied “I’ll ask Jiggs when I get there and send word back.”