Antiques and Pets

Painted Animals
I really did not want to be there. I had been watching the weather forecast for days, and finally, a perfect day was in the making. A perfect day in my books is a day which, in every way, is ideal for a game of golf. The temperature in the 17 to 22 degree range, a slight breeze from the south west, partially cloudy, in other words, a perfect day. There was a slight problem, however. I was a husband, and a father of two small children, and my sense of duty and responsibility was overwhelming my desire to play golf.
So I found myself pulling up to a beautiful old stately home on a cul-de-sac in a quiet part of town, mentally preparing myself for a day of self-sacrifice and hard work. I worked alone in those early years and because I had warned the little old lady the day before that I would be arriving in the early hours of the morning, I found myself enjoying the peace and quiet and beauty of a summer morning in June. By the time my equipment was set up and I was ready to actually do some serious painting, I realized, with the increasing temperature, that it was actually going to be a very warm day once the sun rose well above the horizon. I had enough experience to know that painting in direct sunlight on a warm day was forbidden in the painters bible. The most important verses of this bible are written on the labels of every can so I hoisted the can of exterior gloss alkyd enamel and double checked the instructions. Yes, I would have to paint on the shady side of the house all day.
Being a person who has an aversion to heat, I did not mind the prospect of working in shade all day, however, there is one problem with this strategy. One side of the house is always in direct sunlight, the south side. So, to avoid the commandment of 'no painting in direct sunlight', which is another way of saying 'do not paint on hot surfaces', I thought I would start painting on the south side of the house before the sun rose too high and heated the surface. All was going well, and a few hours later I was moving my equipment around to a shady spot, and none too soon because it was going to be a warm day. By this time, the elderly lady who lived in the house was up and around and as her routine dictated, she let her dog out for his morning stroll around the yard.
Not being a dog lover, but one who only tolerates pets, I tried to ignore the beast, and only noticed that it was a large but squat blood-hound type animal with drooling jowls and weepy eyes. Being an elderly beast and probably wracked with rheumatism, it headed straight for a sunny spot on the front lawn. I continued with my work and soon became totally oblivious to the dog and all else around me except my brush and roller.
At mid-morning, I was approached by the lady and was asked if I would like a cup of coffee. I rarely turn down an offer like that, not so much because I like coffee, but because I relish the chance to a have a break from my work and perhaps get to know the customer a bit. One of the pure joys of my work is the interaction with people. Besides, it is good business to be personable with a customer because a happy customer is always the best advertising that there is. The real bonus in this coffee break was the opportunity to see the inside of the house. It was a stately home, spacious and well laid out, but what really caught my attention was her furniture. I have seen many antiques in my day, and have never really appreciated what I called 'just old furniture'. Her antiques , on the other hand, were exquisite. She told me how many of the pieces had been brought over from Scotland and had been in the family for many generations. They were in perfect condition and in their day were undoubtedly the very best that money could buy.
Back to work, and now I was thinking of painting and thinking of antiques and who would get them when she died, because I gathered from our conversation that she had no family. The day was indeed warming up and the paint, in spite of the fact it was oil paint, was drying quickly.
That was when I first heard it! I was not at all sure what the sound was nor from where it was coming. At first I thought a child was in distress, but soon dismissed that idea when the pitch and volume exceeded that of a child. By now I could tell that the commotion was coming from the south side of the house and I quickly climbed down off my ladder and ran to that end of the house so I could peer around the corner. The sight that greeted me was both humorous and frightening.
The warmth of the sun on the front lawn was all but cancelled out by the early morning dew on the grass so the old hound had found a new place in the sun. He had gone and flopped himself down on the warm asphalt driveway on the warm side of the house but had leaned up against the fresh paint on the siding. Now, hours later, the paint had dried and he was firmly imbedded in the new paint job. Struggling to get to his feet and meeting with absolutely no success, the fear in his eyes told a pitiful story. I rushed over to console and perhaps free him, but I too met with absolutely no success. I gently tugged and pulled but only succeeded in pulling hair out by the roots and inflaming the skin around the painted area of his hide. My mind was racing. After all, this was the lady's only family and I was killing him. Who would get the antiques?
Paint thinner! The answer was paint thinner. I rushed to my truck and quickly retrieved the can of solvent and began to splash it between the house and the animal. You would think I might have known, through my own experience, that solvent on irritated skin burns unbearably. I realized too late that this was adding insult to injury but the damage had been done. The howling and yelping reached a crescendo that even an old partially deaf woman could not help but notice and no sooner had I gone into panic mode when there she was, shuffling around the corner with a look on her face that I will never forget. Who can blame her? This painter, whom she had met only recently and had just been invited into her house for a little hospitality, was standing over her dog with a jug of solvent and pouring it over him. The poor beast was struggling to get on its legs but this...this...monster was holding it down so he could continue doing his foul deed.
Needless to say, she soon correctly assessed the situation and together we began working toward a solution, having to shout at each other to be heard above the wails of the panic stricken pooch. 'Get the scissors' I intoned, and she quickly retreated into her house, returning seconds later with a large pair of pinking shears. After several minutes of snipping and cutting, the animal finally struggled to his feet and took off like a dog half his age to the confines of his doghouse on the back patio. I assured the lady her dog would be all right, and no, we should not try to remove any more paint from his coat. As it was, the black and tan colouring now had a new dimension to it both in colour and texture. The house too had a new dimension to it, at least in that one spot.
I spent the next few minutes restoring the crime site with a piece of 80 grit sandpaper and a fresh coat of paint.
There have been occasions too numerous to mention when pets have had a brush with my wet paint or should I say, have been a brush with my wet paint. Cats are particularly a problem both because of their curiosity and because of their propensity to rub up against things. Wet door frames are a particular problem because a cat or dog will never walk through the center of the doorway but always relieve their itch, or whatever they do, by rubbing their sides on the door jamb when passing through. I discover the misdeed not so often by seeing the racing stripes down the sides of the animals but more so by detecting the hair stuck to the fresh paint. These messes in my work can only be repaired many hours later, when the paint has completely dried.
For some reason, asking the customer to lock up the pet for the day does not work. 'Oh, he'll be o.k.' or 'my bubbles doesn't like to be cooped up' means that I will be chasing the fur balls away from my work all day.
The finest pure bristle paint brushes are made from natural bristles, such as pig, squirrel, and camel. It is ironic that animal hairs put it on, but we dare not get it on the animal’s hair.
In life, we often prepare meticulously for all eventualities but in the end, not all is in our control. How do we handle these minor glitches in our everyday activities? We can go with the flow or we can fret and fuss and wring our hands and let it ruin our day. Keeping a sense of humour, will, in the end, be the best course of action. Next time you have to 'get out the paint thinner' keep a smile on your face.