Portrait of a hound

I am to have a portrait of me painted! Sadly not by a well renowned and talented artist, it is the short human making a somewhat frenzied and enthusiastic return to painting. The tall human had a distinct look of glee on his face when she announced this, purely because it meant her attention would be taken away from incessantly harassing him, and would turn, like the golden sun seeking a blooming flower, towards me, the graceful Spindlechops. I shall be her muse. I will be amusing.

She has bought a large gold frame in readiness for this forthcoming venture. As yet the composition has not been discussed with me in any great detail but she has flicked through some books and shown me some photographs she is rather keen to emulate. It is here that I will direct your attention to a book by Thierry Poncelet, and yes, this is a real thing. He is a Belgian painter, restorer and collector and one day he made the momentous decision to substitute human faces with dog faces Can you see where this is going? Indeed. The book has a series of portraits and is well worth a look if nothing else than to waste a few moments as the kettle boils and as you ponder the world and its oddities. She has been rather taken with the idea of me posing as Madame de Pompadour or possibly Queen Elizabeth I. This is not going to happen, I am not going to wear a frilly ruff. Ever. It is basically a fancy Cone of Shame *shudders at the thought.

I rather fancy emulating a bit of a heroine of mine, Frida Kahlo. She was a very interesting, striking and talented woman and I think I could really rock her look. Plus I look fabulous with flowers in my hair…fur…I have included for your viewing pleasure a quick mock up I did in photoshop but I must warn you it is the first time I have used it and I am afraid my paws made it difficult to lasso myself with any great accuracy – plus I kept unexpectedly twitching at crucial moments.

It was as I sat, quietly contemplating this immortalisation of sorts when I spotted a flying raisin zooming about my chair of contemplation. I must admit that although I am usually a placid, devil may care hound, the sight of the little whizzy blighters gets my blood boiling and tail quivering. Apparently I look like a demonic snapping furry crocodile when I am on the raisin hunt, but I think that this is one instance when you can see the primeval beast in me emerging, it is always just beneath the surface, just ask David Attenborough. He knows.

I can happily report that I was successful in catching the flying creature of doom and it only took a few minutes to put the furniture back in place and unfurl the curtains from my telescopic limbs. Alas I could not save the ornamental bust of Elvis which flung itself, lemming-like, and shattered on the floor. All shook up indeed. Good job it wasn’t the short ones mystical crab that was lurking next to Elvis. I once enquired how it was mystical…apparently when she holds it between finger and thumb she feels a funny tingle, which she is interpreting as a mystical vibration of sorts. Personally I would feel a prize chump, but there you are.

Back on topic. I can’t settle on who I would like to be represented as in this portrait, although I feel I would be more suited to be portrayed as someone with a touch of Va Va Voom and mystery. I am initially going to suggest Mata Hari, maybe Isadora Duncan, although that didn’t end well…Mother Teresa, useful if I was having a bad ear day and I do look rather good in blue and white. No, it really must be Frida I think. I will naturally keep you posted of any developments regarding the portrait. I shall now go and practise staying still in a pose for hours. I have my doubts this is possible without any alcoholic assistance. Farewell for now my dear dear friend.

Footnote 1. The short one has been overly influenced by me and has unleashed herself on the interweb. I did try and talk her out of it but it was to no avail. Anyway, she is the one that apparently feeds me and has therefore made me promise to put a link on it to my blog. I reluctantly agreed in the spirit of good will and to ensure the forthcoming supply of sausages and custard creams…I did suggest that she was delusional but she threw a sock at me…which I ate.

http://www.alisonjanewebb.co.uk

Footnote 2. Elvis has indeed now left the building.