It’s always bittersweet to draw or paint beloved pooches that have crossed that dreaded ‘rainbow’ bridge. I was raised with dogs (and humans as well, fear not, I am no a jungle girl) so the loss of a pet sits very heavily with me. It’s frikkin’ awful, never gets any better or easier, and is heartbreaking. My first dog that I remember was a cattle dog, by the name of Pickles Onion Hobba. He was totally unsuitable for a small suburban backyard, wasn’t neutered, so (forgive the fruity language) rooted everything in sight, including my sister and me, but I loved him dearly nonetheless. My father then brought home a long- haired miniature Dachshund – Schnapps Von Hobba – who ruled the roost, and if that wasn’t enough, we then included an Afghan – Haji Baba Hobba. Who sadly didn’t last long, and was quickly replaced by the beautiful chocolate Afghan – Seal (we didn’t name him, clearly….far too normal, that was his kennel name). A bizarre menagerie, but we all loved them with a passion. And they all seemed to get along perfectly. As they passed away, usually through old age, it absolutely broke my heart. And nothing has changed. Still breaks my heart. So when friends ask me to draw or paint their deceased furbies, it also cuts deeply. I know exactly what they are doing through. And then I think how lucky we are to have had them in our lives, and sadness is such a small price to pay for the pleasure they have given us. .And then I usually have a glass or two of bubbles and watch the Kardashians.