In Memory of Otis the Wonder Dog

It was two days ago when I took Otis to our favorite fishing spot. We never catch much to speak of at this place, but there is a big rock where we can both sit and watch the carp swim by. This time we were not fishing... just watching... and Otis' tail was wagging with joy, as it always is when we come here. Otis leaned hard against my leg as if to comfort me and I scratched his ears.
A drizzling rain started shortly after we arrived and neither of us cared. The rain actually helped to hide the tears that were now flowing freely. It would not be the last time the tears would come. We both knew the day was fast approaching when he would have to leave and we were spending every moment possible doing things he loved.

So today I lost my best friend and my heart is heavy. For the past 12 years Otis the Wonder Dog has been my constant companion. He was given the title of "studio assistant" when he was old enough to pick out a toy and drop it on my foot. This of course was the signal I needed to take a break and do something fun... which we almost always did.

His illness was short and he did not suffer. For that I am grateful. Somewhere during that time I came to realize just how quiet and lonely this house would be without him. He has slept beside me on the bed since he was a puppy and I will miss his reassurance of his muffled snoring and the occasional twitch of puppy dreams in the dark. If I would get up during the night, he would always steal my spot and pretend to be asleep when I came back. Of course he loved to ride in the truck and the regular trips to the post office will never be the same. In his later years he came to love going out on the lake in the kayak even more. It was impossible to be anything but happy when we did things like that.
A sweet boy to the very end, he was always quick with doggy kisses (whether you wanted them or not)... especially if I was having a bad day. If I was sick, he would refuse to leave my side. Once when I managed to injure myself, he slept for three nights with his head on my neck and chest. It was the only time he ever did this.

This sweet nature seemed, at times, to be the glue that held our family together. I jokingly said to a friend once that because of this, I should have named him Elmer.
"Otis" however, was the name that fit. The first days of our partnership, when he was only 6 weeks old, his tiny legs had some trouble negotiating the terrain of my yard. He staggered from side to side and often took a short tumble before resuming his playful romp. So Otis it was, his namesake being the happy harmless town drunk on the Andy Griffith Show (many of you are probably not old enough to remember that!).

Our sweet boy lead a happy and playful life. Now that he is gone, there seems to be a void in the world that can never be filled. We were lucky to have him with us as long as we did.
Miss you bud.

January's Black Cloud

There are winters that seem to breeze by without much drama or strife and pretty much transition from fall to spring leaving me wondering where all the snow went. This in not one of those.
It's only January and already I've been skulking around here with a scowl befitting a monster villain on Scooby Doo. I haven't resorted to throwing things yet, but I can feel it coming. It's that black cloud again and I know when it gets here, it can be awfully difficult to shake. Otis the Wonder Dog has been staying pretty close and keeping an eye on me... frequently putting his feet up on my painting chair and giving me doggie kisses because he knows. He always tries to help, dropping his favorite ball on my foot and wagging his tail.
Keeping my mind busy with work here in the studio has kept me productive, but done nothing to improve my disposition. It was 22° outside and the forecast was calling for highs in the single digits most of the next 10 days. I really needed a break.
Knowing it would not be any warmer for the next week or so, I put my fishing bag in the truck and headed for a trout stream. At the very least, I would get some fresh air in my lungs and work some of the cobwebs out of my brain. Of course I was hoping for a trout or two, but that was almost too much to ask on a day like this. Still, I need to get out and go through the motions.
As it turned out, the fish were cooperative and I managed to catch a few. It seemed strange to hear myself laughing on the deserted stream, but the trout made me giggle. The sting of frigid air on my hands after releasing them was another story.
For 3 hours, I moved cautiously along with the wind and snow biting at my face. I'd make a few casts letting my flies cover the better areas of the pools, take a couple of small steps upstream, and make a few more casts. I knew the trout would be very near the bottom in this cold water and my flies were constantly hanging up on rocks, sticks, and leaves. But every once in a while, the line would pause and I'd lift my rod to feel the dull throbbing of a fish. Of course, under normal circumstances this would be nothing remarkable. Today, it was shear joy... if for no other reason than the contrast of my mood just hours before and the absurdity of fly fishing in such nasty weather.
I had planned to fish until dark, but could no longer feel my feet. It wasn't far back to the truck, but when I got there, my wading shoes were frozen solid. With my cold fingers operating at about 30% dexterity, I had a hell of a time getting my boots off. The wind was picking up and there came a sense of ergency to get this done. I really wanted to be in the cab of the truck getting warm!
By the time that was done, it was beginning to get dark. I carefully put my fly rod back in its case and stored the reel in my fishing bag. The truck had been running, so it was warm inside and I huddled inside letting the heat soak into my body. Again, I heard myself laughing. It's no wonder people think I'm freakin' nuts!

"First Light" - a Christmas Painting

Otis the Wonder Dog and I were up early this Christmas morning. He had puppy toys to unwrap and I had a painting to finish. With the floor covered in bouncy noisy toys and shredded wrapping paper (Otis' favorite part), he finally had enough Christmas fun for the morning and climbed up on the couch for a nap.

"First Light" 12x18 acrylic

With a small block of uninterrupted easel time ahead, I put out some new paint and dove in. This frozen winter landscape has been getting the bulk of my attention for about a week. I was a bit unsure about whether or not to put the whitetail in the painting. I considered a great-horned owl or a northern harrier. I also considered leaving it a pure landscape with no critters at all (my recent work seems to be leaning that way). In the end, I opted for the feeding buck, wanting to keep the quiet, early morning feel in the painting. The head-down attitude of the buck and pushing him back into the middleground of the painting helps give the painting calm and relaxed mood.
Two hours after I smeared in my first blob of paint, it was finished. I had not planned to get this far today, so it's a nice Christmas surprise to have it listed as "complete".
Merry Christmas everyone!

Ringnecks and Gun Dogs

As working dogs go, my Otis has pretty much always known exactly what his job is…keep everybody smiling and laughing all the time and make sure nobody drops anything on the floor in the kitchen. He’s damned good at it too! Though not really showing much of his age, at 8 ½ he’s getting up there in years. I’ve always wanted to put Otis on some ringnecks, but was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get the chance. He’s a springer spaniel for cryin’ out loud and it’s exactly what his heritage intended. He can sniff out a Blue Dog peanutbutter cookie hidden in tall grass and thoroughly enjoys flushing the birds from the feeder in the back yard, so I’m thinking his instincts for hunting are awesome. Finally, the right opportunity presented itself and we were invited to a private hunting club to hunt for half a day.

Our hosts were my good friends Ben and Terry and their nephew, Steve. Top notch bird dogs Oscar and Pete were there to show Otis the ropes. Over the next few hours, we bagged several beautiful birds (thanks mostly to Steve’s good shooting) and the dogs worked as hard as I’d ever seen. Otis had a grand time, managing to find and flush a couple of birds on his own and getting more than one mouthful of feathers after they hit the ground. As you can see in the photos, he looks pretty happy J

When we got home, Otis drank his water bowl dry, climbed up on the couch, and was asleep and snoring quite loud in less time than it takes to tell about it… no doubt dreaming of birds on the wing and the taste of freshly plucked feathers. After cleaning the ringnecks we brought home, I joined him. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes and something Ben told me a long time ago came to mind. “As you get older, the things you’ll remember about your days afield will have nothing to do with how big or how many. It’ll be about who you spent them with.” Good advice my friend. Spot on.

My Personal Assistant

It's not easy spending day after day grinding away at the easel, but I love it. Fortunately for me, my studio companion has one job and does it very well... he entertains me. Today, as I set my palette up, got my cup of coffee, and started to work, Otis the Wonder Dog took up a position where he could watch my every move and occasionally lean forward and lick my face! I couldn't help myself and after a while, simply started to laugh. That's usually all it takes to send Otis on a romp around the studio. Today he grabbed "Clyde Frog" (his giant floppy stuffed frog that grunts when he squeezes it) and took off running and wagging his tail. He taunted me... daring me to grab it... and when I'd try... zoom! He'd take off running again. Thanks buddy... for adding a little levity to my world.