Living with Dogs

Burnished Brush. Oil on canvas, 10x20

Call me at 860-442-0246 or email me

if you are interested in buying this painting

Peter decided to head to the beach this morning, in spite of the wind and the rain, to see if it was possible to fish. There are sheltered places where you can cast a line sometimes, even in a storm. But really, I said, he should take the van. The Miata is no fun in the rain. It leaks, it gets very humid inside, and other cars splash you into blindness when they pass.

So I took my paint bag out of the van, and set it in the driveway, and leaned this painting against it.

He left and I took the dogs out.

They're not very happy to go out in the rain, our dogs. Even Smokey, the toughest of them all, is unhappy about getting his poor little feet wet.

But I yelled and pulled and berated and prodded, and eventually, I got them all into the back field, where they sniffed and poked and did their business.

"Back to the house!" I yelled, and they took off toward the deck.

I counted them, as I always do, and found that Woodreau, the little bichon, was missing. And he's usually the first one through the door.

I looked out into the driveway, and there he was, sniffing around my paint bag, sniffing around my painting and then - yes - lifting his leg to pee.

I yelled, and he looked at me with saucy devilment in his eyes. Then he put his leg down and scampered up onto the deck and into the house.

The painting is unmarked. I know. I sniffed.