Monday, May 24, 2010

Apso Gaze

Zeke spends as much time as we allow, sitting on a couple of pillows at the end of the couch, looking out the window. He takes note of every car and truck and school bus that drives down his road. Every raven and hawk that flys by gets a bark, as does every person walking their dog or riding a bike. But he saves his most energetic and ferocious barking for the bunny who lives under the tree just to the right of his window. Sometimes he just can't contain himself, and off he races, out his Apso door, around the corner of the house to the little screened-in "window" my husband cut into the fence for them. He tells that bunny "what for", then races back into the house to see if he listened!
Panchen, that Champ of a dog now buried in Susan's garden, here sits on Susan's porch, enjoying the Northern California sunlight on a proper spring morning. How delicious must the warm sun feel to a blind dog! What does he "see" as he sits there? Can he feel the daffodils blooming? What does the morning sun smell like? Rest easy, Champ, the daffodils are blooming again.

Both paintings are oil on deep gallery wrapped canvas,
5" x 5" square.
Dog portraits by commission

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Flowers for Camille

She was somewhat of a diva and she certainly had issues, but I adored her.
I think the feeling was eventually mutual. I was, ultimately, the only human she trusted.
I’ve read somewhere that you will always remember the day you brought your dog home, and the day they left you.
She wasn’t a product of a puppy mill, but she certainly didn’t receive anything close to proper socialization prior to coming to live with us. I should have known better. It took me the better part of an hour to get her to come to me, sitting in the dirt in a corner of the outdoor enclosure where she and her siblings were kept. She was the only one of the litter who, eventually, would dare come close.
She made a charming little “roo-roo” sound when she was uncertain about something, and I heard it then for the first time from the cutest little white ball of fluff I’d ever seen. Sort of a plaintive half-growl, half question, meaning she wanted to, but she was a little reticent, a little afraid. Usually, she would make up her mind to push ahead, enter the unknown, take a chance. And there, in the dirt, she came to me and put her nose in my hand. She was willing to take a chance on me.
We enjoyed almost twelve years together. She was beautiful, elegant, intelligent and devoted, but she approached life at full throttle and therefore encountered more than her share of accidents and mishaps. So much so that, as she grew older, my intuition told me that she would not cross over that rainbow bridge quietly. And so it was. I was able to hold her in my arms and tell her what a wonderful friend she had been, and to ask her to meet me there, one day.
I’m certain that when my time comes, my little Camille will be there to greet me with her funny “roo-roo, come on over, mom, we’ve all been waiting for you!”

16 x 20 Oil on canvas
Dog Portraits in Oil