Molly Shoemaker
Ultimately, I lose every single patient. It sucks. I have been in practice since 1986 so it really shouldn't be a surprise anymore. I have seen generations of pets come and go, so why is it still so shocking? Why does it still hurt so much? Last week was rough at North Fork Animal Clinic. I think I may have hit a record in number of euthanasias done in a week, and that is not a record you want to strive for. Dogs that I have seen through thick and thin, from silly floppy puppies, through joyful active adulthood, and ultimately overtaken by the ravages of age and disease. No one escapes. So painting is therapy for myself. More and more, I feel it is important to try to capture the facial expressions and spirits of animals and what they mean to us. This is Molly Shoemaker and her owners Barb and Kevin asked me to do a painting of her. She is a tiny 7 0 8 pound chihuahua who they rescued from sketchy conditions many years ago. They were told she would not survive, but her tiny body kept going despite the odds. She has a delicate deer like quality. Molly is very solemn at the clinic, and under normal circumstances I would never know her in any other way. That is one of the things I really like about doing a commissioned work is talking to owners and finding out more about their pets individual personality and story. So I wanted to portray her in a regal pose, with the light shining through her giant chihuahua ears, living like a princess after starting out like Cinderella in the ashes. If only they all could be so lucky.
