Oil on canvas. Not for sale
My sister's dog, Mac, is an old, dear fellow. He seemed ancient when Laurie and her family adopted him, years and years ago, but he has lived on, in his creaky but surprisingly athletic way, all this time. He has run and walked with Laurie in the early mornings. He has played with three kids, guarded two houses, and eaten his way through a mountain of food intended - and not intended - for him.
Mac has had his troubles of late. He ate something horrible that nearly killed him around Thanksgiving. Now he has cancer. It looked like his time was up a week or so ago, but he rallied, and has been happy and wagging ever since.
After he ate whatever it was, and before he got cancer, the family took on a puppy. Mac didn't like the little guy at first, but over time, the two have become friends. The friendship blossomed more or less around a dog bed that Laurie got for Beemer, but which Mac took as his own.
I cried as I made this painting, cried for the sweet dog that Mac has been all these years, and for this last sweet act of sharing. I cried for all the dogs I've ever lost, and all the dogs I've ever welcomed into my life. I cried for the friendship and the love that our dogs give us - and which I wouldn't trade, for all the tears in all the world.