Archives for posts with tag: Drawing

There is no picture posted of the dog in full. There will never be a full picture of the dog. The impression is made well enough with her eyes, but from the pictures you can decipher that she is not a big dog.

Her size comes into question when she tries to do the kind of thing a big dog would do like saving you from drowning or retrieve ducks or on a rabbit hunt. Only a couple of those really come into play, what with being city folk and all.

So there we are, early morning, fishing away. Looking to hook something for some lunch. It is the nice kind of lake you think ‘I probably wouldn’t even get beaver fever from drinking this lake water while thirsty’ which you should never do…you’ll be very sick. Then you’ll poo yourself…while a girl slaps you and calls you an idiot…. So it’s early morning, the fish are out. It’s quiet. Smells fresh. No boats on this isolated lake. Wild turkeys around. Bears in the dump. Near that town the Tragically Hip sing about. Bobcaygeon.

Just a man, a woman, a dog, and nature.

Really a nice time to relax, but there are more than a few fish in this lake. The dog trouble comes in every time we are reeling a fish in to the dock the dog sees the fish and jumps in to get this fish that is about the size she is. No way to get out, no real plan, just sees a fish and jumps at it. That was one of the first times I thought my dog was an idiot. Tries to be helpful, but really doesn’t think things through.

She isn’t the only one that doesn’t think things through. After pulling this confused wet little monster out of the water countless times we had a bucket with a couple of fish in it. The part not though through is when the bucket was carried up to the cottage, plopped down on the picnic table. Threw one of those slippery silvery buggers onto the wooden picnic table. Not being a usual fisher went through the usual round of fish murder techniques:
-Punched it in the mouth

-Hit it with a rock

-Held it upside down and whispered that it was an idiot then hit it against the table while crying

-Pulled out a big knife and cut it’s head off (actually worked)

The mouth just keeps opening and closing, all bodiless and bloody. We have started drinking heavily to make me feel less guilty for punching and dirty talking to a fish. Fuckin little bitch ass fish, I’m gonna getcha so bad.

It was 9am and there I was drunk gutting fish and calling my dog an idiot.

 

I’d make a great country bumpkin. Also here is two drawings of the dog cause I made two trying to get a good one, and didn’t…so here:

 

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It’s nice that dogs let you know when they need to go out, and when they want attention and even when they want to play. The part that gets me about it though is when she wakes me up at three or four a.m. just staring at me poking me in the face. This gets me thinking…about bears.

If I were a bear and I had some little jerk poking around in my cave and waking me up after I been asleep for 2 months and I hadn’t eaten I would just maul the hell out of that thing. I would tear it to shreds then wear those shreds like some horrible vintage tattered dress made of man skin or some kind of Jana Sterbak design.

Not only would I maul them but I would truly enjoy it. I was never really that afraid of bears cause I always thought to myself:

‘I’m not going spelunking so I’m safe’
or
‘I probably don’t taste as good as a fresh salmon anyhow’

But bears are the the reason I stopped dating a girl. What I saw as her irrational fear of bears just made no sense to me. It was an obstacle I couldn’t get around. Walking drunk in the woods at night or along cliffs I always thought that the last thing you need to worry about is bears. She would shout and cry, hootin and hollerin ‘I sure hope there aren’t any bears around’ and I would yell ‘I just want to see some goddamn bears, would you just shut your damn trap for 10 minutes’.

Never got to see any bears in Banff or Vancouver Island, did try and fight an elk. Poor decision making.
Next girl I dated, took her to a dumpyard. We watched the bears. When that hulk of an animal started lumbering towards us for getting too close and we screamed and ran to the car I thought maybe the other one was smarter but fuck bears are cool.

All this to say that when that dog wakes me up I think about eating it, or at least just punching it in its tiny adorable nose, so here is a picture of it staring at me at night:

And another one cause I haven’t drawn one for a few days:


Protest as we do about not becoming one of those dog people, the type that refer to you by your dog’s name, we are not at that point yet. I say yet because I go to find a picture on my dear lady’s phone and find that the breakdown of content is the following:

80% Dog
10% Me
10% Scenery (flowers, trees, that kind of thing)

Now that part is not all that strange. She is incredibly photogenic, the dog. The breakdown reminded me of another time that I was at a loss for words. As is the usual for my memorable occasions (that do not occur within my own house) I was in a nearby bar. Not the nicest bar by any means but also not one that I worry about getting shanked, or that appear to be having an awards supper for homeless including a shrimp ring.

So while at the bar I strike up a conversation with a man. Construction worker. We get talking, I tell him I used to work construction, but that is about all the chit chat I have for him. He tells me about his life, family and whatnot, but when he pulls out his phone to show me pictures he skips over any of his family or anything else and goes straight to photos of the dump truck he drives. The photos are followed up with way too much talk about his driving the dump truck.

This is what I worry might happen to my lady or I if i am not careful. No one wants to be that guy.

So here is a drawing of the dog laying around like a little baby princess: