Wabbit Hunting Season

At almost nine years old, RoscoeDog has begun to look down-right elderly, graying throughout his solid chocolate-brown coat, especially on his muzzle, chest, underbelly, and legs.  We have been reminiscing frequently and fondly about his younger years, and I will share and record those stories here as they emerge. 

One story that comes to mind is when my friend F and her baby J were visiting from California.  It was spring, a.k.a. baby bunny season.  We first realized his lust for baby bunnies when hubby saw two legs hanging out of his drooling jowls.  No sooner did he say "drop it", that RoscoeDog tipped back his head, allowing the poor bunny to slide easily down his gullet. In a single gulp, it was lying with the roses.

Unfortunately, we realized later, this was not his first murderous act.  In fact, twice before that week, we heard a scream when he was out in the backyard. Came to find out this was baby bunnies too! A poor, helpless sweet soft little baby bunny, nesting under the deck.  If only we had sooner discovered what a delectable treat RoscoeDog had chosen in the backyard, we could have saved an entire bunny family! 

Luckily, my friend F found his hunting instincts admirable and painted this beautiful portrait of RoscoeDog.  He must have left an impression, because the painting arrived as a Christmas gift several years later.  She wrote a lovely letter describing the painting, which she said depicts RoscoeDog in his natural habitat, a forest scene, on point and ready for Wabbit Hunting Season.

 

I will cherish this painting for so many reasons.  It is painted by a childhood friend whose friendship I deeply value.  It is of my first baby, RoscoeDog, with all his youthful energy.

The painting hangs above RoscoeDog's Dog Nook, which we built within the old staircase alcove, just for him and his Serta dog mattress in his old age. ♥

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