bonus vintage photo time: cat keeps posted

thanks again, antique mall in fife

I know. Terrible pun.

I have been working very long hours at the Day Job this week, so I had time enough only to share this new acquisition with you.  People really seem to like this simple cat portrait.

vintage photo time: baby loves cat so

thanks antique mall in fife

Love! So much love.  Is that kitty feeling the love, or has he/she given up in disgust?  Very patient cat, anyway. I only found and bought this one a couple of days ago; it's one of my new favorites.

epitaph for a faithful dog

In which a vicar's dog named Mungo meets his end, and is tenderly memorialized. (Though what he really needed was a well timed drink of water.  Shame on you, Rev. Cadogan.)

AN EPITAPH ON A DOG.
 By the Honourable and Rev. W. B. Cadogan.

See, gentle reader, see this heap,
And o'er a faithful servant weep;
To whom, of high Atlantic birth, .
A grateful master rais'd this earth;
His living and his dying fame,
To tell and guard his Mungo's name.
Six years he kept the Vicar's yard,
By day and night its watch and ward;
Save, that whene'er his master seen,
With ears erect, and eyes how keen,
He'd leap and fly to his embrace,
Roll at his feet, or seek his face,
Or lift his paw, or shake his tail,
To speak a love that could not fail;
And watch, lest he should walk or ride,
Without his Mungo at his side.
Faithful to death, alas, to tell,
In this too fond pursuit he fell:—
'Twas on the twelfth of scorching May,
No streams refresh'd the thirsty way,
No clouds obscur'd the burning sun,
Close to his master's horse he run;
Till all his vital moisture dried.
And strength exhaust, he dropp'd and died
Here, gentle reader, though a brute,
He is not suffer'd to be mute;
If thou a Christian art, to you
He says, Thou hast a Master too;
One Master, Christ, who died for thee,
And speaks from heav'n, Live to me!
Thou call'st him Lord,—then follow thine,
As I, till death, have follow'd mine.

 -- Gleanings from pious authors: with a choice collection of letters, some by the late J. Newton, and original poetry, by the author of Miscellaneous thoughts  (London: Burton and Smith, 1824), pp. 180-81

a cat = a saint's riches

From The Golden Legend, here's a tale about a holy hermit who asked God what saint he was like most.  The answer was St. Gregory the Pope, who had come from a rich family.  And when the hermit pouted about not getting any share in those fine worldly goods, the divine voice pointed out that the hermit had something finer by far. . .

And in that time there was an hermit, an holy man, which had left and forsaken all the goods of the world for God's sake, and had retained nothing but a cat, with which he played oft, and held it in his lap deliciously. (I love that phrase -- curator) On a day it happed that he prayed God devoutly that he would vouchsafe to show to him to what saint he should be in like joy in heaven, because for his love he had left all the world and renounced. Upon this God showed him in a vision that St. Gregory and he should have like joy in heaven. And when he understood this he sighed sore and praised little his poverty, which he had long suffered and borne, if he should have like merit which abounded so greatly in secular riches. Upon this there came a voice to him which said that: The possession of riches maketh not a man in this world rich, but the ardour of covetise. (That is, worldly riches only make you love money more - curator) Then be still thou, darest thou compare thy poverty to the riches of St. Gregory which lovest more thy cat, with whom thou ceasest not to stroke and play, than St. Gregory doth all his riches, for he ceaseth never to give alms for God's sake ? Then the hermit thanked Almighty God, and prayed that he might have his merit and reward with S. Gregory in the glory of paradise. 

-- Jacobus de Voragine, approximately 1229-1298. The Golden Legend, Or, Lives of the Saints. London: J.M. Dent & Sons, 1931, pp. 66-7.

bird girl

thanks wikimedia commons (PD-Art{PD-art-old-100})

Here's William Powell Frith (English, 1819-1909) in 1869 with "The Two Doves."  You've already beaten me to this, but the other dove is the woman.  Very high Victorian sentiment, and makes sense for a couple of reasons:  Frith was one of the most successful traditionalist and academic painters of his time, AND he had a  wife plus (concurrent and nearby) mistress.  Total children between the two?  19.  Ah Victorians...such split moral personalities. 

The little lost and found bird is still here, more cheerful, but very bored in our study - the only room in our very small house that we can close off from the cats and dog.  I try to keep him amused, and the others pacified.  He's watching me now as I type this.  We think we have found the owners.  I hope they appreciate what a dear friendly creature he is.

a lovebird turns us upside down

No elaborate post today, friends - we found this little guy (girl? How does one tell?) in our back yard yesterday AM.  He was hungry and scared, and now he is in a kitty carrier quickly mocked up as a bird haven with a mirror taped to the side, a nice crinkled up newspaper ball for a toy, and water and seed (correct variety I hope).  We have "found bird" notices at Craigslist and the local Humane Society, and if we don't find his family, we have lined up a birdie haven nearby to rescue him.  He seems a bit sad.  I hope the toys (which I figured out and installed just now) cheer him up.

on the perfection of the beagle

THE BEAGLE

These deservedly popular little dogs are the loveliest of the hound family. They are the merriest little fellows imaginable, shrewd workmen, with the keenest of noses and the most musical of voices. They are used in hunting rabbits, either singly or in packs of five or ten couples. Although pretty and affectionate enough to make the sweetest of pets, they never forget that their true mission in life is to run the rabbit, and never are they more appreciated than when their bell-like melodious voices open up upon the trail.
As the country has settled up and feathered game been exterminated, lovers of field sports who have heretofore devoted their time in the field to bird shooting over setters and pointers, have been obliged to discard their bird dogs in favor of the little hounds, for even in the immediate vicinity of the large cities one can usually find rabbits plentiful enough to furnish good sport.
The origin of the Beagle is lost in obscurity, but it is quite probable that he was evolved from the Foxhound by selecting the smallest specimens and breeding them together until the proper size was arrived at. The typical Beagle is designated in some standards as a miniature Foxhound. This is a mistake. . .

-- from William A. Bruette, The Complete Dog Book (Cincinnati: Stewart Kidd, 1921), p. 64.

why cat and fiddle?

Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle shows up on the occasional pub sign even today.  Why THAT incongruous pairing?  (I think I may start a pub and call it "The Sloth and Stopwatch.")  As it happens, back in 1829 somebody thought they knew why.

***

The Spectator, also, if I remember right, declared the old sign of the Cat and the Fiddle to be quite beyond his comprehension. In truth, no two objects in the world have less to do with each other than a cat and a violin; and the only explanation ever given of this wonderful union, appears to be, that once upon a time a gentleman kept a public house with the sign of a Cat, and a lady one, with the sign of a Fiddle, or vice versa; that these two persons fell in love, married, and set up an Inn, which, to commemorate their early loves, they called the Cat and the Fiddle. Such reasoning is exceedingly poetical, and also (mind, also, not therefore) exceedingly nonsensical. No, Sir, the Cat and the Fiddle is of greater antiquity. Did you ever read the history of Rome? Thence comes the Cat and the Fiddle, in somewhat a roundabout way, perhaps, but so it is:

Vixtrix causa Diis placuit, sed victa Catoni. (Or, The victorious cause pleased the gods, but the conquered cause pleased Cato - curator)

. . . In the days of good Queen Bess, when those who had borne the iron yoke of Mary, ventured forth and gloried in that freedom of conscience which had lately been denied them, a jolly innkeeper having lately cast off the shackles of the old religion, likened himself to the old Roman (Cato, who wrote the sentence above- curator), and wrote over his door L'Hostelle du Caton fidele. The hostelle and its sign lasted longer than the worthy gentleman, and having gone shockingly to decay, was many years afterwards reestablished. But alas! the numerous French words once mixed with our language had vanished, become barbarized, and ground down into a heterogeneous mass of sounds; and le Caton fidele was no longer known to his best friends when resuscitated under the anomalous title of the Cat and the Fiddle!

* * *

Sounds plausible?  From The Atheneum, Or Spirit of the English Magazines (Vol. II, April - September 1829; Boston, John Cotton), p. 327.

with two hares

thanks wikimedia commons (PD-US-not renewed)

Here is the German painter August Splitgerber (1844-1918) sharing a glimpse of a "Gemusegarten mit zwei Hasen" (Vegetable garden with two hares).  Clearly they aren't wild hares, they're domestic rabbits, but in earlier centuries the words "hare" and "rabbit" seem interchangeable even for pets.  This is such a little, ragtag collection of cabbage here, yet the heads are plump - as are the bunnies:

Clearly they feel secure in the knowledge that succulent leaves will be theirs too.

a tentative visitor

thanks wikimedia commons (PD-art (PD-old-90-1923))

This morning it so happens that while I was talking Veronica out of going in...and out...and in...hopefully to happily stay in, I came across this oil on panel by the early Impressionist Gotthardt Kuehl (German, 1850-1915).  It's called "Das Gartenzimmer" (The Garden Room) and dates from 1897.  Why are there two big bowls of - is it milk? - out in the middle of the floor?  Look at the door. Ah, there it is: a black and white cat, parked right at the threshold, looking in at temptation.  Go in already, kitty cat.

a setter sees

thanks wikimedia commons (PD-old-100)

Here is Dash, a setter in a wooded landscape, circa 1816.  This image was most arresting to me this morning, because I like setters, particularly white and red ones like the one shoving his nose along a handy cat on the couch right now.  Then when I pulled this up and had a lingering look at it it was fun cataloging the differences - leggier than ours, skinnier face, same chest though.
It's the eyes that got me.  Those calm, almost human eyes, happy to gaze upon a friendly presence for however long is good (or until a bird needs pointing).  I know that look.  I expect to see it myself any second now.  So I feel sincere appreciation for the artist, Jacques-Laurent Agasse (1767-1849), who came from Switzerland to become one of England's greatest animal painters of his time.  He studied with David in Paris, and was a student of veterinary medicine.  Some time after his return to Switzerland he painted a portrait of an English gentleman's dog, upon which the client brought Agasse back to England with him.  Agasse died there, and by some reports in poverty despite his acknowledged gift for capturing horses and dogs on canvas. Apparently it wasn't money that drove him.  But I already guessed that from seeing this work.

lucky cats, lucky me

I got to visit this show at Bellevue Arts Museum yesterday:  Maneki Neko:  Japan's Beckoning Cats - From Talisman to Pop Icon.  (I hope this link stays up a while.)

The two photos above and below are modern takes on these bringers of fortune.  Below, artist Moxie brings us a felted fake-neko: "Make your own luck!" It's a slug thing in a kitty eared hat.  

And now some treats from the show itself.

Army of nekos!

The museum had an excellent sheet of additional information, including this article and  this video of Boris Petrovsky's action installation, "The Army of Luck or The Global Pursuit of Happiness."  Think I had fun?  You better believe I had fun.

duckling charms your socks off

Whomever mihaifrancu on YouTube might be, he or she has a pet duckling.  And you must drop everything and watch. . .

the duckling spurn duck food in favor of cat food

the duckling snore

the duckling go on a picnic

the duckling enjoy a lovely warm hairdrying (downdrying?) session

the duckling watch itself on the YouTube

And my favorite comment from the series, presented in its entirety:

"quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack quack"

another johnny gruelle - on a lonely cat

from oldbooks.net.  creative commons attribution - share alike 3.0 

I'm revisiting Rhymes for Kindly Children because I couldn't stop thinking about how much another Gruelle illustration said with very little.  This accompanies the poem:

The Thoughtless Neighbor

The people in the house next door

Seem very nice to meet;

But they leave their cat all summer

Without a bite to eat.

They go away and leave her,

Poor hungry, lonesome cat!

No person who was really kind

Would treat a pet like that.

* * *
Did you spot the cat yet?  Here.

A lonely little scrap knocking on the door, where no one will answer.  

a crazy cat man?

thanks wikimedia commons (PD:US)

Be sure and click on the image to bring it up in bigger size.  How many cats are in there?  I have fourteen but I think there's some more under the seat.  Peg Woffington was a famous Irish actress of the 18th century, and for the life of me I can't find anything about her visiting a crazy cat man.
Here's a funny thing.  You might have thought this was an 18th-century painting, but it was actually done sometime in the career of Percy Thomas MacQuoid (British; 1852-1925).  MacQuoid was an illustrator, theater designer, and furniture expert.  I wonder if that background actually helped provide this piece with its giveaway touches.  See, a fine art painter would have copied the style of the time, gone bigger, bolder, lusher, and wouldn't have shied away from Peg's charms (this "Peg" looks like a hinged Barbie doll and we can't even see her face). This piece is a welter of detail and small fuss, and lit too coldly.
But those kitties are swell, especially that itty bitty one all by itself on the floor - a gesture of a cat, a catlet.

charles ii wants his dog back

It takes amazing boldness to kidnap a British monarch's dog, but that's what seems to have happened to one of King Charles II's pets. . . and he wasn't above whatever it took to get it back, as this snippet from an article shows.
* * *
Apropos of Charles II.'s love of dogs, the following advertisement from the "Mercurius Publicus" of June 28—July 5, 1660, a copy of which is now preserved in the British Museum, is interesting. It is supposed to have been written by the merry monarch himself, and to refer to a dog that the king loved, and which had been presented to him by Pepys. The advertisement reads:

We must call upon you again for a black dog, between a Grayhound and a spaniel, no white about him, only a streak on his Brest, and his Tayl a little bobbed. It is his Majestie's own Dog and doubtless was stoln, for the dog was not born nor bred in England and would never forsake his Master. Whosoever findes him may acquaint any at Whitehal, for the dog was better known at court than those who stole him.
Will they never leave robbing his Majesty? Must he not keep a Dog? This Dog's place (Though better than some imagine) is the only place which nobody offers to beg.

Whether his Majesty recovered the dog, history, unfortunately, does not tell.

* * *

I hope he did.  This was found in "The Pets of Noted People," by Bury Irwin Dasent,  St. Nicholas vol 28 part I (Nov. 1900 to April 1901), p. 404.

sun on the water, sun on the dog

thanks wikimedia commons (PD-old_100-1923)

A couple of slender dark creatures, one of which seems to have gotten a nice dip, stroll along on a fine day.  This is Richard Gallo and His Dog at Petit Gennevilliers, painted around 1884 by Gustave Caillebotte (French, Parisian; 1848-1894).  Caillebotte was primarily a Realist painter who permitted Impressionism to influence his work (see the brush strokes in the reflections?).  Petit Gennevilliers is a commune in the Parisian suburbs, and still exists, though I imagine not precisely as Caillebotte saw it.  Here is the commune's official webpage; you won't be surprised that it is in French.

johnny gruelle, a dog, a kindly rule

thanks oldbookart.com. creative commons attribution-share alike 3.0

From a particularly sweet and heartfelt example of the improving-verse book genre, Fairmont Snyder's 1916 Rhymes for Kindly Children, here is illustrator Johnny Gruelle's interpretation of the following poem:

The Kindly Rule

My teacher says that animals

Deserve the best of fare:

Clean beds, fresh water, healthful food

And very loving care.

And when their eyes look up to me,

Such deep and trusting eyes - 

I wonder how could one forget

Or treat them otherwise!

If you're wondering why Johnny Gruelle's name sounds familiar, it's because he was the person who created Raggedy Ann and Andy.  Gruelle spent his career not only as the heart and soul behind Raggedy Ann, but continued throughout his life to execute newspaper and magazine graphic illustrations.  He gave equal weight to art directed at children as well as adults, and was known for the sure hand and confidence he brought to his work.  The fresh colors and delicate line of his art is very much of the 1910's, and I personally think it shows a certain influence from the Jugenstil/Art Nouveau that was strong in Europe then, but greatly clarified in execution.

cat art: serious stuff

Now, I'd like to begin this post by pointing out that I started The Pet Museum over six years ago.  I really believed in what I was doing, and I had a couple of degrees in art history no one else was letting me use - so despite the occasional snicker from people who had made it in the arts or museum fields, I went for it on my own.  Here we are in 2013, with my readers and friends who have been coming by all this time (and for whom my heart is always full of gratitude).

And now I have proof that I was on to something real way back when.
Vindication!  Here's a new article from ArtNews.com on "Taking Cat Art Seriously."

girl and cat, 1914

thanks wikimedia commons (PD)

A pretty girl, a snoozyfaced kitten - this should be a feel-good, surface piece eliciting "awwws," yes?  So why do I feel this vague worry as to whether all is quite right here?  Part of the answer is in the upper right corner with the signature:  HV 14.  That's 1914, and the artist is Heinrich Vogeler (German, 1872-1942).  He was either about to join in or already enmeshed in the First World War, an experience which would add staunch belief in pacifism to his interest in bolstering the health and welfare of the working classes.  His earlier work had been cool, lyrical and Art Nouveau; this piece, probably portraying one of his three daughters, shows a tenderness and vulnerability not at all surprising in a father facing down a war with a family at home.  (Everyone in the family made it through that war, by the way.)  So you can see how this simple image of a girl waving her pet's little arms in the air somehow feels like a plea for mercy.  Hands up, please don't hurt me.

vintage photo time: opal

found somewhere in CA

Frankly, I was out partying last night instead of researching this morning's post.  So here is Opal.  Is Opal the dog or the young lady? And why the tie with the overalls?  Who's that guy in the back?  Don't know.  Pretty awesome photo though.

briar got all spiffied up

Here he is just back from the groomer.  Look at him, all proud of himself for looking so fine.  Thanks for such a great job, Balanced Dog Training & Grooming of Tacoma.

a papal puss

Pius IX. also had his pet - a superb "gatto soriano" (tabby cat - curator) which was always present at his frugal meals, sitting beside him, and claiming its full share both of food and attention. A very pleasant sight it must have been, to see this benign old pontiff taking his passegiata in the gardens of the Vatican, with Pussy sedately pacing at his side. When, after a while, the link of companionship was broken, and Pussy paced from this world to another, no pet succeeded him. "I am too old for new friendships," said his master; "moreover, death may come to me next, for my cat and I have both grown old in the Vatican."

--Eleanor Lewis, Famous Pets of Famous People (Boston: D. Lothrop Company, 1892), p. 177.  Pius X was Pope from 1903 to 1914.  I have not yet found any other reference to his cat.

dog-ma; also the first poetry ever published in pasadena

In a history of Pasadena, CA from its Native American days to "The Incorporated City," we find that the amount of churchgoing dogs in town was not only newsworthy, but verseworthy.  Kinda long, but not the kind of thing you see every day, so here you go.

* * *

"FIRST PASADENA POETRY.

The first poetry ever written in Pasadena also appeared in this first number of the first paper, and ran as follows:"

A CHURCH DOG~MA, IN DOGGEREL METER. 

BY PROF. SHORTFELLOW. 

Our Mr. Porter had a dog; its given name was Fido;

When Mr. Porter went to town it always said "can't I go?" 

At Dr. Newton's lived a dog ; its hair was long and yellow; 

And when the Doctor went away, Bob was quite sure to follow. 

And Mrs. Barcus had her dog ; it wouldn't stay at home;
When Mrs. Barons came up town, Carlo would likewise come. 

Then Mrs. Mundell had one, too ; 'twas socially inclined; 

If told to stay at home alone, sometimes it would not mind.

Now all these folks were church-going folk, and went to church each Sunday; 

So all the dogs they followed on, the same as though ’twas Monday. 

Now this was wrong, for dogs should learn the difference in days;

Their special fort it is to watch; they cannot pray or praise.

And so they should not go to church; and if they try to follow, 

Their master should turn right about, and whip them till they holler; 

For folks will laugh and look distressed to see a dog at service; 

And when it goes up towards the desk, it makes the preacher nervous. 

And when four dogs together come, they make such a commotion, 

'Tis very likely to disturb the spirit of devotion.

But not long since the Methodist another church began ;

And now there is but one dog left at the Presbyterian.

“ Bob" Newton now comes all alone; all others on the list 

Now go just where their masters go, and have turned Methodist. 

And now we hope, before ’tis time that church to dedicate, 

A pledge to leave all dogs at home, some one will circulate.

The precedent is very bad, when dogs do so increase,

And by and by, if all should go, we could not meet in peace. 

This market is getting stocked with pups, of every kind and size, 

And if the old dogs go to church, the pups will go, likewise. 

The Moody boys a puppy have, and Charley Watts, another;

And Seymour Locke is keeping one, besides “Ivy," their mother; 

And Mrs. Barcus, not content with her nice Black and Tan, 

Has gone and got a puppy, too; and now she has a span.

Then Johnny Nelson got one too, before it was too late;

And Mr. Wallace spoke in time to make sure of its mate.

The Martin boys have also two, and Banbury a third,

And Doctor Edwards several more; from some we have not heard.

Now, if each pup when it's grown up, should go to church each week, 

We could not sing, or hear a thing our Minister might speak; 

So let each man who has a dog help cur-tail this abuse;

But if our dogs must go to church, let’s build one for their use.

"The Mr. Day who wrote the above poem and prepared the entire paper, was a newspaper man connected with The Advance of Chicago, the organ of the Congregational denomination in the Mississippi Valley States. He was here for his health; his name was Arthur Henry; he kept some hens..."

* * *

from Hiram Alvin Reid, History of Pasadena (Pasadena, CA: Pasadena History Company, Publishers, 1895) p. 140

a bunny faceoff

thanks wikipaintings.org. public domain

Too cute, including the bunny.  And I can't quite make out what's written on the card, at least not to get any sense out of it. This is early pinup artist Raphael Kirchner (Austrian, 1876-1917) with a postcard image from a series called "Girls with Animals," for lack of a more exact term.  (Here's a few more all together on a page.) This looks exactly as Art Nouveau as its 1901 date can make it; Kirchner's also noted as an influence on Alberto Vargas.  Kirchner's work isn't deep in any way, but it's very pretty to behold.  Great lines.

photos for an easy sunday

Here's my typically crummy phonecam shot of my "boyfriends" Berani and Dumai at Point Defiance Zoo, snapped during my visit on the 4th of July.  I saw little cub Kali too, but she was in the nursery den and I was surrounded by about 2 dozen other people. No crummy phonecam shots of Kali for me.

This is the wildlife I spotted this morning . . . I get up for five minutes and nature red in tooth and claw moves right in.  She's still there as I type this.

vintage photo time: kitty is stumped

from the pet museum collection

I can never figure out where to focus, either.

the tricks of the heedless kitten

MY KITTEN

My Kitten, I love on your face to gaze,
And to mark your merry gambols;
My brother speaks with incessant praise
Of the dog who shares his rambles;
He tells me that wise and learned men
On a dog have verses written:
I wish I possessed a poet's pen,
For your sake, my playful Kitten!

You will not always be wild and gay -
You will fill a trustful station,
And our household stores by night and day
You will guard from depredation;
You will bravely combat a mouse or rat,
With the love of glory smitten,
And lose, in the steady and sober cat,
The tricks of the heedless Kitten!

A dog may plunge in a summer brook,
Or with active bound spring o'er it;
But the winter hearth has a tranquil look
When a cat is stretched before it.
And the readers, I trust, of my simple lays,
Will applaud what I have written,
And own that the joys of their earliest days
Were linked with a sportive Kitten!

-- Forrester, Mark. Forrest's Illustrated Juvenile Keepsake. Boston: William Guild, 1850, p. 63

happy 4th!

 LC-USZC2-987 - no known restrictions 

Happy Independence Day!  I went looking for patriotic pet posters to share today, but what I found was this - a Works Progress Administration poster from 1939 announcing a pet show in an Illinois district.  I didn't know the WPA created events such as this.  What a delightful thought.  I even found a photo of such a show in Maryland, also in 1939.  This image by Arlington Gregg radiates positive energy and scrappiness, things people drew upon during the Depression years to get them through,* and those qualities are two of my most favorite when I think about my country and my fellows in it.

*My grandmother was a kid in those years.  She remembers.  She never kidded me that it was easy - it wasn't, she said - but everyone was in it together, so "I tucked my hair up under my cap and off I went to work."  After she told me this I think she went off and made a pie in 10 minutes flat like she does when no one's looking.  She's 94.

dachshund vs. dachs

thanks wikimedia commons

Or, dachshund vs. badger, the fearless burrowing animal the breed was shaped to battle.  This chromolithograph by Carl Friedrich Deiker dates from around 1875 and is executed in a realist style.  But . . . the badger is so sinuous, smokily colored, and seems so unconcerned, it's almost as if it's a spirit animal.  I gather actual badgers are not so philosophical when disturbed.  The way this composition loops round and round reminds me of Deiker's fellow German of a later time, Franz Marc.  I wonder if Deiker had similar ideas about the essential forces of creatures - after all, the dog is following his purpose, which he could not do without his eternal opponent.  (This is me thinking like a 19th century German.)

eakins watches a dog take on the landscape

thanks wikimedia commons (public domain)

This might be a late spring/early summer dawn by the look of that sky. That is the kind of sky I see right now outside my window, though it's not around 1874 any more and I don't live in Pennsylvania.  Later it will burn off and the world will blaze and chirp under the sun, and hunting dogs will find shady places to sleep.  (This dog looks a great deal like our Briar.)  But right now, and in this intense Thomas Eakins oil sketch, it is still cool and green enough to have a look around while everyone else is sleeping.
Eakins (1844-1916) was and is one of the primary figures in American art history and a man of great complexity - have an introduction here.

a dog and his master teach anthropology

A few years back at the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History, the anthropologist Grover Krantz and his wolfhound Clyde got to work on a special exhibit together.  They taught visitors a great deal about the uses and purposes of anthropology, and Krantz didn't have to say a thing.  

Not that he could.  He and Clyde were years dead by then.  Their skeletons, mounted in a hug copied from a personal snapshot, were the concluding exhibit for "Written in Bone:  Forensic Files of the 17th-c Chesapeake."  I find this such a life-affirming way to face your mortal end.

Big thanks to my dear Janet F for this wonderful find - now I'll send you to the article and photo.