June 11, 2018

how to paint your dog

I call this "Lazy Dog".  She
can't even be bothered to
reach eight inches for the toy.
Rose is black Lab mix, and is completely black except for a milk mustache.  She prefers lying in a dark room on a dark rug to sleep, and she gets stepped on and kicked a lot, and I think all of us are wishing this could get worked out so that her ribs and our toes aren't always so sore.

We decided one way to accomplish this would be to make her glow-in-the-dark.  So we Googled "how to paint your dog".  (Notice we didn't even bother looking at collars, because who the fuck wants to do something sensible like that?  Not us.)

Google insisted on returning page after page of tutorials about how to use a photograph of your dog to paint a realistic portrait on canvas, and services that will turn said photo into a painting, but nothing about how to paint your dog.  The dog.  Not a picture of your dog.  Your dog.

Googling "put paint on your dog" was a bit more productive, but yielded endless pages discussing why you should never paint your dog because paint is toxic and horrible and bad and will probably give your dog fur cancer.  But there are paints out there that toddlers can paint on their faces, and if you think the toddlers don't lick it off, you do not spend time around children.  They make non-toxic stuff, even glow-in-the-dark paint.  So now we were getting somewhere.

Then we went off on a tangent and started looking at photos of these black dogs and horses where their people had applied incredibly artistic glow-in-the-dark skeleton patterns.  This was interesting to us.  Even though it would mean massive face-plasters of spider webs, we secretly want to take her for a walk in the dark, maybe around the mountain roads at the Lodge, painted like this.  Which is funny, because we are not attention-seekers, but the inclination to do weird things often overrides that.

We couldn't paint a skeleton, though.  With Rose's greasy fur, our attempts at painting her would more likely produce some vague smears.  Plus overachievers like those horse-painting people make us not even want to try.

All of this led to a nightmare last night wherein Walter, one of my Lunesta aardvarks, talked me into painting my toenails with glow-in-the-dark polish, except that made the nails fall off because it was toxic and there was blood everywhere, and Walter was entirely too calm about it, and I don't think I trust him any more.  Aardvarks are assholes.

No comments:

Post a Comment