I've heard it said that you are either a cat person or a dog person. I've known plenty of people who were both. I grew up in a kennel, so I am a professed dog person. Of course, my severe allergies to cats may have something to do with that also. But they are magnificent creatures to paint! This is also dedicated to Elvis, as I am blue without him!
Yes, it's true. Elvis has left the building. (Of *course* I had to say that, you know). He will be going to live on five acres in northern Florida to be best buddies with a woman who works from home and promises to worship him as he deserves. I know he is going to a wonderful home, but I couldn't help crying a little (ok, a lot!).
I think that even Beck (aka "Mr. Grumpy) will miss him. It gives me hope that we may be able to find him a sibling he can tolerate.
After catching up with the house cleaning, I may even have time to paint this weekend!
Beck taught me something new today (I love having a big brother!). When your people are sitting on the couch, put your chin on their lap. Make your eyes real big and bat your eyelashes. Even though they have never let you on the couch with them, they will now. Here I am in the backyard, practicing my big-eye lessons. Beck says to try it at the table too.
Gotta go. Mom says it's "bath" time. I don't know what that is either but I hope there are treats! She said someone is coming to visit me tomorrow and I need to smell pretty.
We went for another walk this morning. I'm beginning to understand I have to have the long chokie thing attached to me before we can go. But Beck doesn't seem to mind it, and he wags his tail a lot when they put the "leash" on him, so it's not so horrible. I smelled many interesting things on our walk. I spent a long time sniffing at one house where a dog lived, and was in the middle of a sniff when I heard a growl and something running at me. I ran behind Mom just as Beck started growling at this big white shaggy thing. It didn't have a long chokie thing on, and didn't have any people with it at all. Boy, I'm glad Beck was there. Mom complained about the white shaggy thing's people all the way home then gave me an extra big breakfast.
Mom lets me help with dinner every night. Dad said my job is to lay down in the middle of wherever she needs to be. He said it's a Golden's duty. That's an easy job. Sometimes Mom gives me a carrot. After dinner, it was laundry time. Mom was gathering all the towels in a basket, and I helped take them back out. When she pointed at me and gave me "the look," I went to my crate and got the towels from there and brought them to her all the way downstairs. She told me I was a good Golden. I wonder what that is. Then she told me to drop it. I hear that a lot but I don't know what that means either. I think I'll go see if I can find Mom's shoes.
It's been 20 years since I've had a puppy in the house. In that time, I have always taken every opportunity to visit and play with any puppy I see. However, that kind of play is much like having grandkids -- you can play til they get cranky, then turn them over happily to mom and dad. Having one living in your house is different. There's potty training, lack of sleep, feeding, middle-of-the-night walks (or barking at absolutely nothing), lack of sleep, fights with the siblings, chewing, mouthing, teething, lack of sleep, missing shoes. There's the terror induced by the vacuum cleaner, or walking a new direction in the neighborhood, or the man next door who insists on talking on the phone in the back yard even after he has been barked at, the first bath, the first visit to PetSmart, that puppy in the mirror. There's the lack of sleep. Most of all, there is the serious lack of time to do fun stuff like paint.
What do you do when you have a pile of leftover pink paint, only one hour to paint because you're suddenly crazy-busy and you know it's only going to get worse because for some unknown reason, in a moment of weakness, you agreed to foster a 6-month old Golden Retriever puppy named Elvis and you know your 10-year-old Golden (a.k.a. "Mr. Grumpy") will stop speaking to you? Why, there is really only one thing to do: put on your abstract hat, pick up your palette knife, think of those pink hydrangeas you have only been able to admire as you back down the driveway, and put on your painting apron, because things are going to get pink and messy!
Word on the street is that a certain young lady named Stella liked my painting of a Stella D'Oro lily. I thought of her while painting this Stargazer lily last night. I hope you reach for the stars, Stella!