Early 18x24

Davey is starting to show his age. His muzzle is getting frosty and he trips sometimes descending the steps on his way to the shop. For years I have thought how nice it would be to have my favorite dog stuffed, sitting in the corner, his head cocked with that winsome inquisitive look good dogs are known for. It's halfway between bewilderment and joyful excitement at the possibility that master might be paying attention to me. There he'd set for perpetual head-patting enjoyment never needing a bath or a brushing...and never shedding again. The almost perfect pet. An on-line search for "pet preservation" came up with an array of morbid possibilities all of which convinced me that when it's Davey's time to go to that big ol' dog pound in the sky the best place for his remains will be...where the red fern grows. No, I don't think I want my best friend freeze dried forever, thank you. Here's the auction for this painting.