Pastel on paper.
That was my dog, Simon, and my little neighbor, Louie.
They adored each other – except for the time Louie clipped the dog’s tail while rollerblading.
Rob and I were living in our first little house and most mornings we’d awake to a small blond head poking through the dog door in our bedroom. “You awake in there? Can Simon play?”
We’d groan and roll over while the dog shot outside.
“Really, send him home anytime.” His mother told us. “Don’t let him bug you.”
“No worries, I call your son Buttercup when it’s time to move on and he can’t get out of here fast enough.”
About six months later, Louie threw his hands in the air. “Why do you call me Buttercup?”
“Because you react.”
I could see that little mind engage before he gave me a long look and snapped his fingers. “Aw nut!”
I miss those two. They were a lot of fun.