Immortal Pickle...

Here she is, all immortalized in art. I did this from a photo of her lying beside me on the red couch, which is now blue, courtesy of futon covers. This was a while ago, before her bottom teeth started showing all the time, and before her ears fluffed up alarmingly. I love my Pickle. And I can barely wait for her to be all grown up and, hopefully, settled down. My Boo is sweet, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Pickle is a pistol, smart as they come, full of herself and an amazing amount of energy. She just keeps going, and going, and going. Now, I don't know if this is art, but, to me, it is precious. I hope not too precious, though. I want to avoid coyness in my art, always. My dear friend who was my first teacher once did an enormous painting of a buffalo, very carefully rendered, but, for some reason, something around the eyes, I think, it looked like it was shy and about to blush. I take that lesson seriously. Animals are not toys, you know. This little one has a fierce spirit, for sure.