Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
A regular social event for Mom and Dad and Amanda is a trip to the hair salon. The salon owner’s dog, Abbey, has known Dad since a puppy and now the minute he walks in the door she starts hitting on him. She wants him to play ball with her. Abbey is a Chesapeake Bay Retriever with a voracious play drive. Dad takes the ball and takes her outside and throws it for her. He also takes Peggy Sue, the Jack Russell, out for a potty break and sweeps up the floor!
Last night we rode out to Reva’s Lake. It was Airatude’s turn to run loose and as she trotted along with us, I remembered a trick she had pulled on Dad just a couple of days prior.
The horses love Dad. He lets them out of the corral to roam at will together, and they are good about staying around. That morning, however, Trudy took off down the road. Dad yelled and hollered. “Trudy! You get back here!” He walked down the road after her and picked up a branch, shaking it. Trudy came back and did three full circles around the camp in a mad gallop.
“You settle down now!” he scolded.
She ran down the road again and disappeared.
Dad began to mutter under his breath as he set off after her. From my vantage point out the camper window, I could see Trudy, standing among the cedars right in front of his pickup truck. Because she is so dark, she was nearly invisible. She didn’t move. She was watching him with her ears up and it was perfectly clear that she was hiding on him. His eyes are still keen though, and with a hard look that way he spotted her. He started laughing. “Why you little devil!”
She was busted. She came out, head down, resigned, and walked up to him.
I often wonder how animals seem to understand camouflage so well.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
I walked Ripple down to my shore lot yesterday. It was the first time I’ve been down there since the fourth of July. I walk and walk two miles to get there and then there is always a certain white rock that I sit on, which is right by the water. It has a smooth top and even a little shelf where I can rest my camera. I can put my feet in the water if I want to. The rock, of course, has been there since the beginning of time. It’s about the size of a large footstool.
Anyway, yesterday, I came down, and….. NO ROCK!!!!
I thought I might be losing my mind at first. I looked around just in case I had come to the wrong spot. But after 16 years of walking down here and sitting on this thing, well. …. I know where it was.
I think Vickie and I sat on it. I will have to check my Facebook page.
Anyway it had to be quite an effort to get it out of there. Of course, I am livid! Whoever took it came onto private property, and this is theft.
Drummond is loaded with rocks. But there is nothing close to this one that would really serve as a replacement.
Rode Trudy to the beach yesterday too. I will try to post photos to my blog later. That was another disturbing thing – I haven’t been there in four years, since before Scorch died. They have dredged it out or something, and all that wonderful hard, clean sand has been replaced by muck and swamp grass.
People are idiots!!!! I could scream.
The horses, however, had fun anyway.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
With dogs on the brain, I compiled a video of some of my favorite dog paintings. Some of these dogs are old friends of mine; others are from commissions. Some of the dogs in the video are still alive and happy.
I'm running a special on dog portraits; 50% off through August. Feel free to email me for a price quote.
Thanks to all for taking time to look at my work.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Well, this is going to be a difficult post to write. The topic is just sickening to me. Stewie was killed by a car on Monday morning. He ran off when I neglected to watch him closely. He just never went anywhere, so I had become complacent. My house sits a good half mile back from the road. He ran a couple of miles down the road and I was about fifteen minutes behind him, but despite walking all the way to the end of the road with Rip, I couldn't find the little guy. I asked all the neighbors and someone had seen him running, but for some reason I was not able to locate him. I did call him, but since he doesn't negotiate sound very well, it may not have helped. He may have picked up my track, because he found his way all the way back before he was struck right in front of my mailbox.
At least it was quick, and he didn't suffer. He's buried by the big rock in my front yard, right by the burning bush and the crabapple tree.
I've had a tough time dealing with this, because not only did I love the dog, but he had a most comical way about him and managed to make me laugh during one of the most difficult times in my life. I feel that losing him is just very bad timing. It's extremely depressing.
He had many funny habits. He used to attack his food, snarling and growling and throwing it around. Even though I tried to desensitize him by dropping bits of chicken into his bowl, that only excited him more. He never offered to bite me -- he would step away if I tried to handle the food. He just wanted to kill it before eating it. So I finally gave up. It was hysterical to watch him.
He had toys that he would savage the same way. The bigger and heavier the toy was, the more he liked it.
When he walked on a leash he would grab the nearest part he could reach, and tug on it, then swing around and flip like a fish on a line.
He was so feisty and yet such a good boy. He came when I called, and tried hard to do everything I asked of him. When I picked him up he would grunt and snort while trying hard to lick my face.
He was only eight months old. He was born with a disability but he was bright and it didn't slow him down a bit. He had a mighty spirit. He brought me much joy during the five short months I had him.
Here is a link to his YouTube video:
What a great little guy he was. I've been crying for days -- I wish that his story had a happier ending.