Oil on canvas, 12x12
Not for sale
Buddy was a dear old guy, the beloved friend of a beloved friend.
He made his way into her life, and, as the best dogs do, he stayed and enriched it.
Buddy was a happy boy, not too complicated, not too demanding. He was sweet. He pesheled and galumphed (my mother's words for "plodded," but with a little spirit, a little soul).
He pesheled, and leaned and paced - and he loved. He loved with his eyes, with his solid body, with his sturdy presence.
In the end, Buddy got cancer and cancer got Buddy. He lasted much, much longer than anyone thought he would. He had a tumor on his nose, and it got bigger and bigger, but until the very end, Buddy didn't seem to care. When he greeted his people, even with the tumor, he had joy in his eyes and a little lift in his gait.
And when it was his time, he let my friend know, as the best dogs always do.
Buddy was a buddy, and he is deeply missed.