Thursday, March 16, 2017



Although this is my first boxer portrait, I am not completely unfamiliar with the breed.

Over the course of my childhood growing up in Memphis, Tennessee, my father owned 2 different boxers. The first was an older rescue, who came to us with the distinguished misnomer of Plato. Plato would let any kid in the neighborhood shinny over the fence into our back yard. But God forbid the meter reader or the postman, or anyone of the adult male persuasion try to step foot on the property. Eighty pounds of pure hate and muscle would slam into the gate in an explosion of woofing, growling rage and slobber. Plato once ate the dozen hard-boiled colored eggs my father had hidden for us on Easter morning, then threw them all up in full technicolor at our feet as we stood aghast in our Sunday best.

Our second boxer was named Blitz. Daddy paid big money for Blitz, a full-pedigreed pup. He promptly had the pup's ears clipped to stand straight up in unnatural points. His tail was bobbed so short it could barely wag. When Blitz grew into a seventy-five pound dimwit with no manners, we realized my father didn't have a clue how to raise a dog. During our frequent southern thunderstorms, Blitz would bust the boards out of the back yard fence with his thick-sculled head and high-tail it down the street like a streak of lightening. My dad's solution to keeping Blitz home was to screw a 3-foot section of a 4x4 to a six foot length of chain and attach the chain to the poor dog's collar. The idea was to stop the dog from running once he had busted through the fence. The reality was every time the dog took a step in his own back yard, that 4x4 would bounce up and hit him in his stump-tailed rump and scare the living daylights out of him. He about wore himself out, frantically galloping in circles around the yard. If we hadn't been laughing so hard we might have felt sorry for him, dodging and yelping helter-skelter, trying to avoid that block of wood. We could have sold tickets, the entertainment was so gut-busting hilarious.

Not long after, my father took Blitz to a new home "in the country".

$100 / Unframed
6" x 6" / Oil on museum quality canvas panel
Click here to purchase

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