Painting - Acrylic On Canvas
Lucy wasn't born a queen. She was born a rat -- a rat terrier-- that is. Even as a puppy I had never encountered such a set of magnificent ears. Not only could she hear the mole three houses away, but she could dust the ceiling fan while looking back and forth out the window. Lucy has her own chair, her own glass, her own bowl, her own bed, her own blanket, her own cats, her own car, yes indeed the car belongs to Lucy. She decides when she will get in. She decides when she will get out. Her faithful staff follow along behind or beside, until she speaks the right time into being. Then she will place herself in her seat, in her car, on her road, in her town, with her beloved family. Lucy is no rat, she is the Queen.
September 19th, 2010
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