valadon paints as a cat studies

thanks wikipaintings.org {public domain}

I find I have a soft spot for Suzanne Valadon's cats.  I like how filled with color and personality they are without too much realism, the way you enjoy looking over at your own cat without noticing every hair.  This is "Study of a Cat," from 1918, which I'm sure attracted me because it reminds me so of Elizabeth. The tight-wrapped tail, the whitish bit on the chin, the pursed whiskers...yes, all that.  Now I will show you a little but interesting detail.  See the two stripes cutting through the white of the neck? Do you think they're greyish brown all the way across?  They aren't! The back half is a dull pink.

the romantic tomcat: e.t.a. hoffmann's "kater murr"

"Is it such a great thing to walk upright on two feet that the species calling itself Mankind should claim dominion over all of us who go about, better balanced, on four?"  So asks the cat hero of the German Romantic writer E.T.A. Hoffmann's last great novel, The Life and Opinions of the Tomcat Murr (originally published in Germany over the years 1819-1821).
Full disclosure:  I haven't read this book yet, as I was introduced to it only last weekend and it's 384 pages (and I promised someone I'd read The Master and Margarita first).  But it is considered to be perhaps the first "postmodern" novel in its experimental approach, wildly inventive and full of left-handed observations on art and society. 
Murr, a sapient tomcat, has written his life's story and hasn't a scrap of modesty false or otherwise in the product - but supposedly a mixup at the printer's interleaves his book with the autobiography of the gifted but darker musician Kreisler.  Get a glimpse of this tale with the "Look inside!" feature at Amazon.  A web search will bring up all kinds of notes and thoughts on this novel, but maybe you'll like this one.  And you must see the glorious original title page!

"my carroty cat" - in praise of orange

A poem from an 1875 anthology, in which the poet's eyes are opened to the sheer glory of an orange kitten.  I can't believe it would take anyone six stanzas to do so - but enjoy.

MY CARROTY CAT

Carroty kittens are quite a mistake!
Might I not dye it for charity's sake?
Tabby and tortoiseshell, ebon and white,
All are so pretty, while this is a fright!
How shall I play with it, praise it or pat?
What can I do with a carroty cat?

Golden and auburn, and chestnut and fair,
Brown, black, and white, are the colours for hair;
All have admirers, but nothing is said,
Since hair was hair, for a carroty head!
Kittens are judged by the same rule as that—
I'd be ashamed of a carroty cat!

Why, it's chasing its tail, I declare!
Leaping with delicate joy in the air!
Purring and frisking with light-hearted mew
Just like a cat of respectable hue!
Making a bright little heap on the mat—
Must it grow into a carroty cat?

If it is innocent, happy, and kind,
Ought we its carroty colour to mind?
I should be quite in a mess, I suppose,
If people sneered at a freckly nose!
Let me remember the rule, tit for tat,
Ere I condemn a poor carroty cat!

Look at its snug little kitteny face!
Every movement a movement of grace;
See it embracing my hands and my feet,
Playfully tender, engagingly sweet;
Round little feather-ball, fluffy and fat—
Am I admiring a carroty cat?

Yes, let me honestly own how it is—
Never a kitten was nicer than this!
Safe from the least interference from me,
True to its colours the darling shall be—
White as a snowdrift or black as a hat,
None can compare with my carroty cat! 

From Hymns and Poems for Little Folks (anon., Cassell Petter & Galpin, 1875) p. 262-3.

sergeant stubby

thanks wikipedia (PD)

Today's post comes with thanks to TaraM, because now I'm NOT the last person on earth to know about this much-decorated hero of World War I.
In the spring of 1917 the 102nd Infantry, 26th (Yankee) Division was drilling at Yale Field in New Haven, CT.  A bull terrier mix puppy began to show up, from where no one ever knew, and join in the drills.  Over time he was named "Stubby," became particular friends with Corporal Robert Conroy, and when it came time for the division to go to war, Conroy smuggled the pup on board the troop ship.  So began what really was a glorious life of battle and service.  Stubby was wounded in battle, healed up and went back out to the front.  He captured a German spy (by biting his rump and not letting go).  He wasn't just called "Sergeant," he was promoted.  He earned a string of awards and medals as long as his leg.  Then, after the war, he attended law school at Georgetown with Conroy and became the mascot for the Georgetown Hoyas.

There is much more to know about this dog, who did more in his life than many humans.  Rather than repeat it all here, I will send you to these good sources:
Here's Stubby himself, stuffed at the Smithsonian
He was the Badass of the Week once (warning, swearing there, but I loved this article and he deserves to be a Badass)
He even made it to McSweeney's.
Geez, I feel underaccomplished now.

a patient dog and a fishing pole: forain's "the fisherman"

thanks wikimedia commons (PD)

This post is dedicated to Zip, my parents' old Australian shepherd, who had to fly away Saturday morning.  Now he can feel good again, run as much as he likes and be free of pain.  Good boy, Zip.

Would you think this had been done by a master of Parisian society scenes? The Impressionist Jean-Louis Forain (French, 1852-1931) was best known for realist portrayals of people enjoying themselves in the city, dressed up (or undressed), drinking, partying, performing.  And then there's this, a quiet empty periwinkle dawn with the clouds' reflections stirring about on the water, and a dog happy to sit and be.  I get the feeling Forain painted this as a break from the usual fare of lights, crowds and voices, celebrating an entirely different sort of companionship.

dandie dinmont oldstyle

thanks wikimedia commons (PD:100)

John E. Ferneley Jr.'s 1848 "A Dandie Dinmont Terrier" looks a bit different from the modern-day fellow you meet at the AKC's page on the breed.  This one looks, I think, closer to the rough Scottish working terriers who had a small role in Sir Walter Scott's novel Guy Mannering; they were named "Mustard" and "Pepper" after the color of their coats, and it was their farmer owner who was named Dandie Dinmont.

a tamed buzzard

A child growing up motherless in the 19th c. looks for companionship from all manner of creatures, including a bird of prey:

My first strange pet—I mean foreign to the household—was a buzzard, a large and noble bird which I used to carry about on my arm or shoulder when I was about seven years old. I called him Nestor, he looked so grave and wise ; and though I loved him very much, or thought I did, and took him often into the fields to spend my time with him alone, I always regarded him with a certain kind of awe, especially when he stretched out his great brown wings, and closed them over his head, as he always did in the act of eating, holding the food in his claws, and devouring it beneath this natural veil, as if the act of eating was too sacred and important to be exposed to vulgar eyes. I do not think my venerated friend was very amiable, or cared much about the laceration of the small arm on which he was carried, and which often bore the marks of his powerful talons. 

Nor am I sure that I was myself quite clear of blame in exciting his savage propensities ; for I remember a terribly wounded leg of his, the consequence of my chasing an old woman in the harvest field with the great bird held out in my arms, his beak and claws very formidably presented to the old woman, who turned sharply round and struck him with her sickle, to my indignation and dismay; though feeling that I could say little in the way of complaint. Of course the wounded warrior was carefully attended to, and soon recovered from the blow.

From "Our Pets," by "S.S." Published in Once a Week: An Illustrated Miscellany of Literature, Art, Science ..., S. Lucas, ed. Volume 2 (December - June, 1860; London: Bradbury & Evans), p. 16.

a prickly hedgehog to guard your book

thanks wikimedia commons (PD)

This is for hedgehog enthusiasts everywhere: a woodcut bookplate, said by some to be the earliest in existence, featuring the name of a guy nicknamed "Hedgehog."  Hans "Igler" Knabensberg had this plate on one of his treasured books sometime in 1450-1470.  Igel is the German for that cute pointy animal.  Perhaps Hans was prickly to be around, or spent a lot of time rolled up with his reading.  He must have had a sense of humor though, because according to this page, the banner (written in Fraktur, the old German script) says "Hanns Igler, dass dich ein Igel kuss" (Hans Igler, that the hedgehog may kiss you - possibly a warning against stealing his book, but who minds a hedgehog smooch?).

different takes on cat & dog superstitions

A black cat crossing your path is a sure sign of bad luck . . . or is it?  The same study on superstition that brought us "Judy and the Cats" a few days ago also has lists of these beliefs that I haven't heard before.  Here's some:

• If a strange yellow cat comes to your house, it will bring good luck
• If a gray cat follows you, it will bring you good luck
• If a black cat comes to your house, all the girls in the family will be old maids
• If a cat runs across the path of a young couple, it means that they will be married some day
• It is bad luck to take the cat when you move, unless you wave it at some one of your friends when you start (Needless to say, this is an old belief and completely wrong -- curator)
• If you will carry a black cat three times around the house on the first black night after New Year's eve, it will insure you good luck all the year
• If you notice which direction a cat's tail points, when she washes her face, it will tell you the direction the wind will blow
• Any person who despises cats will be carried to his grave in a howling storm
• If a white dog follows you before breakfast, you will meet with some misfortune or be disappointed in some way in the near future
• If a dog has its picture taken, it will be sure to die (That's clearly an old belief too - people didn't take many photos of their dogs in 1907, I imagine -- curator)
• If a dog howls with his nose up, it is a sign of fire 

And last but not least

If a black cat crosses your path, your wish will come true 

Fletcher Bascom Dresslar, Superstition and Education (University of California Publications vol. 5 no. 1, 1907), passim.

a new maneki neko from miss ella

image copyright and by kindest permission of  e. goodwin

Ella Goodwin is an artist who does many things well, as you'll soon see, but as you can tell right now she does a winsome cat.  Here is her version of the traditional Japanese lucky beckoning cat or maneki neko. Personable, isn't he?  This same kitty has a number of adventures in Ella's world, dressing up as a pumpkin or a unicorn or a zombie, or swimming in the blue beauty of an underwater garden, always with the same remote and pleased look cats do get when they get - and go - their way.
"My background is in costume making and animation," Ella tells me,

I went on to focus on illustration and design but continued to make all of my own clothes for years. I had my fingers in so many pies but could never decide which path to fully follow as I loved every single pie! I realised that I didn't have to stop anything but could incorporate them all in one place in my shop on Etsy.
So my shop includes illustration, jewellery, toys and dresses too. There is quite a feline theme within the shop as one is inspired by these independent creatures particularly the ones I love the most; Chewbacca and Tiger, my two long haired baggy pantalooned and super fluffy moggies!

She's on Etsy at ShopMissElla, where you can be tempted many times over.  Also be sure to look at her portfolio at ellagoodwin.co.uk and scroll a bit through her blog.

vintage photo time: we shall call them mini-us

thank you ampersand bulk bin

Enough said!

judy and the cats, part 2

Continued from yesterday's post!

Then the black cat spoke at last:

'Judy, agrah, don't stay up so late again, for the fairies want to hold a council here tonight, and to have some supper, but you have prevented them: so they were very angry and determined to kill you, and only for myself and two daughters here you would be dead by this time. So take my advice, don't interfere with the fairy hours again, for the night is theirs, and they hate to look on the face of a mortal when they are out for pleasure or business. So I ran on to tell you, and now give me a drink of milk.' 

And after the milk was finished, the cat stood up and called her daughters to come away. 'Goodnight, Judy, agrah,' she said. 'You have been very civil to me, and I'll not forget it to you. Good-night, good-night!' With that the black cat and the two kittens whisked up the chimney: but Judy, looking down, saw something glittering on the hearth, and taking it up, she found it was a piece of silver, more than she could make in a month by her spinning, and she was glad in her heart and never again sat up so late to interfere with the fairy hours, but the black cat and her daughters came no more again to the house.

--Fletcher Bascom Dresslar, Superstition and Education (University of California Publications vol. 5 no. 1, 1907)  p. 155-6.

a folktale: judy and the cats, part 1

From a University of California publication on superstitions, 1907:

According to Lady Wilde, a story is current among the Irish "that one night an old woman was sitting up very late spinning, when a knocking came to the door. 'Who is there?' she asked. No answer: but still the knocking went on. 'Who is there?' she asked a second time. No answer: and the knocking continued. 'Who is there?' she asked the third time in a very angry passion. Then came a small voice: 'Ah, Judy, agrah ('oh love' in Gaelic - curator), let me in, for I am cold and hungry; open the door, Judy, agrah, and let me sit by the fire, for the night is cold out here. Judy, agrah, let me in, let me in!'

The heart of Judy was touched, for she thought it was some small child that had lost its way, and she rose up from her spinning, and went and opened the door—when in walked a large black cat with a white breast, and two white kittens after her. They all made over to the fire and began to warm and dry themselves, purring all the time very loudly; but Judy never said a word, only went on spinning. 

Then the black cat spoke at last:
 --- Visit tomorrow to hear what she had to say!

--Fletcher Bascom Dresslar, Superstition and Education (University of California Publications vol. 5 no. 1, 1907)  p. 155-6.

some thoughts on the ancient egyptian cat

In A Handbook of Egyptian Religion by Adolf Erman (London, 1907), I find some ideas on the cat in ancient Egyptian theology that are pleasingly different from those I usually see:

Because the sistrum which is shaken before the goddess (Isis - curator) is rounded at the top and has four transverse bars, it is to the wise a symbol of the orbit of the moon, which embraces everything, and of the four elements which are contained within it. Also because the sistrum is frequently decorated at the top with a cat, the profane imagine it is on account of the cat-headed, joyous Bast. Plutarch, however, knows the true reason: the cat also has a significance connected with the moon, because it is a fickle, nocturnal, prolific animal, or because it widens its eyes at the full moon. (p. 244,and here's where you can see some sistrums)

Another great aid to the deceased in his search for justification, namely, that he has heard that word which the ass spake with the cat, etc., is considered a proof that he has been a faithful servant of Osiris, and has taken part in the feasts and ceremonies. (p. 104.  I wonder what the word was? This follows an excerpt of the lists of sins the good Egyptian soul has not committed.  Here's a few of those:  "Oh Nose in Hermopolis! I have not defrauded. Oh Devourer of Shadows in Kerert! I have not stolen. Oh Looker backward in Bosetta! I have not murdered men. Oh Double lioness in heaven! I have not diminished the measure of corn. . . . I was not deaf to words of truth. I have not caused weeping. I have not consumed my heart (with remorse). I have not calumniated. I have not uttered many words."  )

There is another great goddess of the Delta to whom it is natural to assign a similar origin; Bast, or as the Greeks called her, Bubastis, is a counterpart of the joyous Hathor, delighting in dancing and music. She is cat-headed, and is usually represented with the sistrum of the dancing women in her hand and a basket on her arm. (p. 13)

a (mostly) wordless wednesday

New photos from last weekend.  Above, Kat Von D snuggles, one of her favorite things.

Below, Elizabeth sleeps in her favorite thing: a box we got for something around Christmas, and now we clearly will never be able to get rid of it.

Below, the Kat is ready for her close-up.

Elizabeth is not.

Thank you for visiting!

henri III's basket of puppies

Another diverting anecdote from The Recreative Review, this time found in Vol. III (p. 559, and original spelling kept):

Henry III. — of France, would amuse himself by traversing his capital, with a basket hanging by a girdle from his neck, out of which peeped the head of half a dozen puppies (live ones, of course - curator). And De Thou assures us, that the King annually expended above twelve thousand pounds in the single article of little dogs, besides the sums consumed on monkies, parroquets and other animals. At Epernon's nuptials he danced in public, while at his waist hung a large chaplet of ivory sculls. In 1577, he frequented public entertainments in female attire, his doublet open, his bosom bare, with a necklace of pearls, and three little capes, as they were then worn by the ladies of the court.

Would you like to read more about this entertaining, but ultimately tragic prince?  You can start with Wikipedia, but here's a good article from History Today.

on the suckling of dogs in naples

Suckling Dogs.—" If the Neapolitans bury Protestant Christians like dogs, they make some singular compensations, we will confess, by nursing dogs like Christians. A very veracious man informed me yesterday, that his poor wife was half broken-hearted, at hearing such a.countess's dog was run over. 'For, (said he,) having suckled the pretty creature herself, she loved it like one of her children.' 1 bid him repeat the circumstance, that no mistake might be made: he did so; but seeing me look shocked, or ashamed, or something he did not like: 'Why, madam,' said the fellow, 'it is a common thing enough for ordinary men's wives to suckle the lap-dogs of ladies of quality:' adding, that they were paid for their milk, and he saw no harm in gratifying one's superiors. As I was disposed to see nothing but harm in disputing with such a competitor, our conference finished soon;but the fact is certain." (Piozzi's Tour, vol. ii. p. 57.)

--Excerpted in The Recreative review, or Eccentricities of Literature and Life, vol. 2 (London: J. Wallis, 1822), p. 518.  As to the comment about burying "Protestant Christians like dogs," this opinion betrays some British prejudice of the time, obviously, and is illuminated on p. 264: 

"Funereal rites have from time immemorial occupied the attention of mankind ; and this reminds us of the remark which foreigners make of the English, that all they think about, is that of being buried decently. There is some truth in it; but that luxury is denied to us abroad, particularly in Italy, where our heretical bones must not pollute those of catholics, (us Christians, as they call themselves,) but within twentyfour hours after a protestant's death, he is shovelled into a hole like a dog. Those, therefore, who travel, should make their last stage at Leghorn, where we have a churchyard of our own, and are not treated like brutes, after having spent our money among them like princes."

vintage photo time

thanks ampersand bulk bin

I call this one "2 Oldtimers."  What grabbed and delighted me about this one was the obvious comfortable bond between these two.  Look at the way the dog's sitting, so calm and full of self-possession at the man's right hand, not even needing to look up for validation.  The dog belongs where he/she is, and has long known it.

spell "mousetrap" with 3 letters

. . . C-A-T.

Okay, you knew that one.  I'm on a riddle roll this morning, so try these out!  Answers in the tiny print at bottom.

1.  What's the difference between a cat and a book?
2.  Why does a dog wear more clothes in summer than in winter?
3. A certain room has eight corners; in every corner sits a cat, on every cat's tail sits a cat, and before each cat is a cat. How many cats in the room?

4. Behind the barn at early morn / I heard a herald blow his horn. / His beard was flesh, his mouth was horn, / The like of him was never born. 

5.  State the difference between happiness on earth and a kitten's head ?
6.  When is a tea-pot like a kitten ?
7.  Why does a puss purr ?
8.  What part of Spain does our cat, sleeping by herself on the hearth-rug, resemble? 

First four found in Nuts To Crack, by George Schorb (1902).  Last four found in Howard's Book of Conundrums and Riddles, by Clarence J. Howard (1869).

1.  One has the claws at the end of the paws, and the other has the clause at the end of the pause.
2.  In winter he wears a coat; in summer he wears a coat and pants.
3.  Eight cats; each cat is looking at another one, and they are all sitting on their own tails.
4.  He's a rooster (hatched, not born).
5.  On the one there is " too little 'ere below," on the other two little ears above! 
6.  When you're teasin' it (tea's in it)! 
7.  For an obvious pur-puss.
8.  Cat-alone here! (Catalonia). --Groan! -curator

a riddle

"Between a thick-set hedge of bones
A small red dog now barks, now moans."

"The answer rung, 'A human tongue!' "

-- found on page 205 of The Poetry of the Orient, by William Rounseville Alger (Roberts Brothers, 1865).

vintage photo time: elizabeth again

 

I was short of time this morning but I thought to trot out some old snaps of my lotus flower Elizabeth . . .

 

Lotus flowers grow from the murk, it's said, and longtime readers remember that Elizabeth was found as a very tiny feral kitten with 2 siblings in a nasty rubbish-filled garage.

 

My blooming one.

"dalmatian: the probable origin"

In 1907 H. Fred Lauer undertook to publish upon the origins of the Dalmatian breed, with what seems to have been way more confidence than information.  And here I worry about publishing.  Humph.

* * *

Very little is known of the origin of this dog or what country first gave him birth. (And yet this book goes on for 43 more pages - Curator) It is a mystery to the writer why it can’t be traced back, and yet I suppose he is too old a dog to go back several hundred years. This I persume (sic) has not and never will be found out.

Some early writers inform us that the first came from Spain and Jardine, in his “Naturalist’s Library,” mentions a picture of a spotted dog, time the middle of the sixteenth century, from which he believes our modern Dalmatian must have been descended. Another writer informs us, that this dog came originally from Bengal, where his peculiar markings made him much admired by the wealthy and luxurious natives, whose establishments were not complete without several spotted dogs in the kennels or about the stable...
Again, we are informed that this dog was used in Denmark to draw carts and other conveyances utilized by the thrifty Dane and his wife to take their commodities from place to place. Moreover it was commonly supposed that the dogs had originally been obtained from a cross with a tiger. This I doubt very much (Me too - Curator), and leaving the above statement for what it is worth and coming to more modern instances, we have our common Dalmatian or "Coach” dog likened to a Pointer.

Dalziel thinks it reasonable to-assume its native home was Dalmatia, on the eastern shores of the Gulf of Venice, and a province in the southern part of Austria. Of whatever family or habitat, the badge of its tribe has always been the spotted coat.

...Who first mentioned the Dalmatian we have not found out and don’t think we ever will, therefore it is useless to write on this subject any further. (And yet the book goes on for 42 MORE PAGES!  Granted, there's a lot of photos - Curator)

-- The Dalmatian, or (Coach Dog) - His Supposed Origin, H. Fred Lauer (Philadelphia: S.W. Groome, 1907)  pp. 3-4 passim.

a corgi dog naps in style

with kindest permission and copyright of the artist

Evie Anderson of Indianapolis knows and loves corgis.  She knows, too, how very well a long low dog can stretch into a good napping spot.  And since everyone knows corgis (corgyn, if you want to use the Welsh plural) are the Queen of England's fave dog breed, why not give every single one the chance to rest in high style?  This is Evie's "A Royal Nap," and I feel relaxed simply beholding this.  For more corgi fantasy and fun, executed with a cheerful palette and a wonderful sense of fantasy, visit her Etsy shop, Evie Anderson Corgi Art.  While you're there, you must see the Egyptian piece for an instant smile.

vintage photo time, now with chipmunk

thanks for these, ampersand

These were developed in January of 1960, so no doubt they were actually taken in a warmer, drier month, but yay, what's more cheering in January than chipmunks?  This one is wild and free, but one does see the occasional pet 'munk . . . like this one on YouTube.  Keep the wild ones wild.  If you simply must have a domestic chipmunk (must you?) be sure to read helpful care pages such as this.

a bold girl and cat by boldini

thanks wikipaintings.org

Can you believe this is from 1885?  This is Giovanni Boldini, "Bambina con il Gatto Nero in Braccio," or "Girl Holding a Black Cat."

a cat at college

In 1877, a Dr. Hill of Princeton acquired an unusual new friend, as this anecdote reveals.
* * *
. . .grave Princeton College has had a pet, which was also a phenomenon, in the shape of a two-legged cat biped from birth but a most cheerful, healthy, engaging little creature, dark maltese in color, with a white star on her breast. Her fashion of walking was queer, but lively, as the sketch by Dr. F. C. Hill of Princeton will show.  (I couldn't incorporate the sketch but it was engaging, all right - Curator)
Brought from a New York village to this college town, she adapted herself to her new home with the ready-pliability of youth, became everybody's pet in general, her master's in particular, and was in all ways a thoroughly charming, though whimsical baby-cat. Her virtues were all her own, while her faults, like those of other kittens, were doubtless due to there being no kittychism. Such is the reason a modern writer assigns for feline errors, and it carries with it conviction. As the kitten is bent, the cat will certainly be inclined.
Pussy's course in life was destined to be brief as brilliant. In the spring of '77, Dr. Hill was absent a fortnight. He came back to find his small friend dead. He had left her vivacious and merry now she was only " a body." " Poor Kitty," he wrote, " was well and happy while I was with her. I really think she pined and died as much from loneliness as anything else."
To say that she was missed, is idle; it could not be otherwise with so bright and loving a creature. Love wins love, the world over, and where love comes, love follows. Our poor little Pussy's heart was all her master's; it resulted that in his heart was a corner all her own.
Her body was sent, in the interests of science, to Prof. Ward of Rochester, N. Y., and by him the skeleton was prepared and mounted. It is now in the museum at Princeton College : so that Pussy remains as serviceable after death as it was her warm will to be in life.

* * *

I wonder if that skeleton now snuggles in a museum drawer somewhere.  From Eleanor Lewis, Famous Pets of Famous People (Boston: D. Lothrop Company, 1892), pp. 184-5.

one gold moment, three black and white cats

thanks wikimedia commons {PD:US}

Perhaps if I lit enough candles, I'd get this golden light in my cold gray January day.  Certainly I have three cats that I can swing about.  Look at the pudgy face on one of the cats being held aloft: is that a "Ha ha I'm liked more than you" face, or a "Hate it hate it hate it" face?  In any case I hope all the cats get turns, since the one on the floor would like a lift so very much.  This jewel-like work of 1900 is by the Hungarian painter János Vaszary (1867—1938).  He seems to have been an artist who liked to dip into a number of the avant-garde styles on offer during his youth, including that of the French Symbolist Puvis de Chavannes, whose serenity and sensitive modeling I can perhaps catch here a little.  Only a little.

a new friend. . . eventually

thanks wikimedia commons

This is "The New Playmate," an oil painting dated 1873 by the Swedish artist Julius Kronberg.  I like it because the interactions here are on the wry side of the usual little-girl-in-garden-with-pets genre work.  If you click on the image it should pop up in a bigger version, and then I think you'll see what I'm talking about. That parrot (actually looks to be a cockatoo to me) and the child are in a beady staredown which plays out like this in my head:
Girl:  What.
Bird:  What.
Girl: Whatever.
Bird: Whatevs.
Dog:  OMG what is that

I'm sure they all got along in time.  By the way, what is up with the dishevelment in the garden?  And I want to note that Kronberg had studied in Dusseldorf, in a school of approach that generally chose serene, even colors.  This is vivid, lively, almost humorous in its bright palette, and I would love to know why.  A special project? Or one simply close to his heart?

dalmatian, 1853

thanks wikimedia commons {PD:US}

Here's a dog breed we don't see much at the Museum: a Dalmatian, as painted in 1853 by an artist named T. Goetz.  Can't find anything more about him, but do notice the ears are cropped, which was apparently the practice at that time.  

a dramatic dog

Here's a thrilling true story about a Newfoundland not only clever enough to get into a theatre, but brave and strong enough to make a dramatic if unplanned stage debut. . .

* * *

On Thursday evening, January 28, 1858, as the play of "Jessie Vere" was being performed at Woolwich Theatre, and when a scene in the third act had been reached, in which a "terrific struggle" for the possession of a child takes place between the fond mother and two "hired ruffians," a large Newfoundland dog, which had by some means gained admittance with its owner into the pit, leaped over the heads of the musicians in the orchestra, and flew to the rescue, seizing one of the assassins, and almost dragging him to the ground. It was with difficulty removed, and dragged off the stage. The dog, which is the property of the chief engineer of Her Majesty's ship Buffalo, has been habitually accustomed to the society of children, for whom he has on many occasions evinced strong proofs of affection.

From a Museum favorite: Anecdotes of Dogs, edited by Edward Jesse (1858), p. 167.

kat von d welcomes 2013

We tried to tape a little party hat on her head, but she was so not having that.  (It didn't work with Elizabeth and Veronica, either.  Party poopers.)  So here is the Kat Von D watching New Year's Eve television from the new kitty perch, hatless.

It's 2013, everybody!  Let's make it a great year for pets everywhere!