When I was twenty-three I adopted my first pet as an adult. When I moved into my own place I knew that I needed a furry little creature to keep me company, so I went to my local shelter. There were tons of cats needing homes, how could I decide which pet would be right for me? I started looking through the different rooms of cats, and noticed I had a little shadow following me. I was petting a brown tabby thinking maybe this is the one, but a little brown and white face kept nuzzling my leg and would not leave my side. His name was Heart, he was so sweet it was easy to see how he got his name. So I guess he picked me, there was no way I could leave without taking him with me. He was a big muscular alley cat, so I decided to drop the “HE” in his name and call him Art.
About a year ago I painted a portrait of Art walking through the mountains in a stream. I picked that setting for him because he has always been such an easy going cat, did not mind if you held or picked him up, liked pretty much everyone. It seemed like the perfect peaceful setting for him.
Art is now fifteen years old and is aging fast, and I am not quite sure how long he will be with me. I am glad I was able to paint a pet portrait of him where he is still vibrant and youthful, but also serene which I hope he will be able to experience coming toward the final stage of his life. The portrait will be a constant reminder of all the different aspects of his personality, and all the joy he brought to my life.
