I must be the least serene person I know, so that's a bit of a downer!
So in similar depressing mode: I'm afraid this is called Dog Death. We had a pet called Kelly. He was as strong as an ox, but developed a tumour and had to be put to sleep. He used to bound onto my bed in the morning and lick me awake. If I failed to get up, he'd lie next to me and push his paws against te wall until I was teetering on the edge. I wanted his quoit to incorporate into a picture, but had been disposed of along with other toys and his lead. May try to reconstruct at some point, but it's all such a strain with no studio assistant. And yes, I am aware that that suggests that arists are weird. If you had not understood that from gallery visits, what were you doing? Going for the coffee and cake in the cafeteria? I always rate the facilities in a new place along with the collection. I love the Fitz in town... any excuse to eat cake. I love baking too, but then I have to eat the whole thing as no significant other or dependants.
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