If you wish to purchase original artwork, prints or note cards by the artists contributing to the story, please contact them:
(A personal favorite of mine is this one. Kath can also be found on Etsy.)
(Find her on Facebook and Fine Art America)
(Alma gives a discount to anyone following the link from this page.)
(This is Quinn's Flickr account. He is also one of the guys behind Strangecode.)
Nadja Dee Witherbee
For Patricia B. Smith, please contact me. Patti sometimes does note cards of her work and sells them to raise money for a children's charity but she could be talked into selling original artwork too.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Past quixotic failures haunted me. I couldn’t count how many times I’d followed my heart off a cliff, for men, for causes, for friendship, for colleagues, for stray animals. Human rights projects I’d worked on had broken down in petty personal politics and bureaucratic red tape, or led to everyone on the project being severely hacked. Smaller efforts were no more successful. I’d tried to bottle-feed abandoned kittens, and once a premature puppy, only to see them die. I was no good at doing good....
Friday, August 17, 2012
I could not have invented a better home for Pup. Sushma had grown up with dogs and the whole family were animal lovers. Her father was an agricultural officer for the Nepali government and worked with animals, and her son, six, was now old enough to have a pet. While the parents were at work and the kids at school, the dog would have the grandparents to keep her company. And best of all, she’d have two boys to play with. As Mr. Peabody once said of Sherman in the old Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoons, every dog should have a boy. Pup had hit the jackpot....
A cold-eyed neighbor lady, whom I came to know as the Tibetan Buddhist Bitch and in whom I saw not a single drop of kindness the whole time I was there, couldn’t let us pass without a sneer or a comment or both.
“'You will never teach that dog to walk on a rope. She is a wild dog," she said, as translated by another neighbor.
Pup proved her wrong, which of course made the Buddhist bitch like her even less. Some of her comments were apparently too nasty to translate, because the other neighbor blanched and instead of explaining, looked away, embarrassed. The Tibetan Buddhist Bitch was not a poor lady. She owned a big house and all her kids were in college or careers and had nice clothes and motorcycles. For someone so privileged to be offended by a street dog’s lucky break? That takes a particular smallness of character....
Thursday, August 9, 2012
"Look. No. Bonding," I said. I said it mostly for me, of course, but I thought maybe she’d understand the tone of voice--firm, friendly, but not too friendly. "I’m not your mother or your best friend. I’m just a middleman between the streets and your permanent home...."