ANIMALS by Shirley Keller ©2025

 Barbara

Shirley Keller, 2025

Acrylics - Dots with toothpicks

Delia and her husband Erin have no children. When they got together Erin had the dog named Barbara. He’d had Barbara for years by then. Delia fell in love with Barbara. Five years past since they first joined as a couple. 

My husband Bruce is Delia’s adopted father. He asked her not long ago if she had any plans to have children. Erin is in his mid-forties. Delia is mid-thirties. Her answer to Bruce was, “Probably not have kids, but I am seriously considering adoption.” Bruce teared up. To him that meant Delia feels he, and her adoptive mother, must have done a really good job raising her and she did not seem to feel the loss many adoptive people feel. 

When Bruce told me about that conversation I had to laugh. “Barbara is their child,” I joked. I’d been having that thought for the last couple of years. Barbara is with them every where they go except when they travel to Bali to see Erin’s father and his family, who live there. Then Barbara stays with Erin’s mom, who was Barbara’s original person, until Erin finished College. Barbara has been with Erin since then. 

I’ve watched Delia hand feed a whole meal to the small dog, bent down, talking nonstop to her, while Barbara looks up at her between every bite, as if she is the most attentive listener ever. The last visit Barbara was sleeping, her black and white self totally relaxed, with her pink tongue hanging out. I snapped a photo.

As I did the painting, I realized I am not joking about a dog grand child. I love how they care for Barbara and how devoted she is to them. I do long for a grandchild they would present, but if they decided not to have a human child, I am enjoying thinking of Barbara as an animal grandchild. Why not? There’s love enough in me to include Barbara.

Checkers

Shirley Keller, 2025

Acrylic - dots made with toothpicks

Every week I attend a ceramic workshop at friend, and neighbor’s, house. I sit at the same spot and have for years. My friend, Louise, had three house cats. One of them, Checkers, liked to roam free outside and frequently showed up at the studio in an out building. He would wander around the edges of the studio, smelling each step of the way. He’d stop at Louise’s station, she’d pet him and sometimes pick him up, but he wouldn’t stay long. He’d jump down and continue checking out the rest of the studio, ignoring me and the other women working. He’d disappear.

One time, Checkers wandered in as he normally did. But when he got to my station, he began to rub against my leg. I have never owned a cat. They have never been an interest to me. So to have this cat stop, rub my leg, look up at me was shocking, and very out of the ordinary. I thought cats had six senses and would know I am not a fan of cats. But, apparently not. I also heard they decided who are their people. Was Checkers picking me?

I bent down, picked Checkers up, awkwardly, because I really had very little, if any experience, picking up the critters. I put him on my lap. He rubbed his head against my chest, then put his head down, and he decided to stay. I pet him for a few minutes, then decided to go back to my mask making. He went to sleep. I do not remember how long he stayed but it was a while, ignoring all the movement I was making with my hands in clay. Finally, he awoke, looked up at me, then jumped down, left the studio and not to be seen again that day.

Every week for years, I might find Checkers sitting on my seat waiting for me to arrive. Or he’d wander in and stand next to me until I put him in my lap. He’d sleep and I worked. If I arrived and he was outside, he’d come to me so I could pet, and make a fuss over him. Then he turned and went about his own business.

PUP

Shirley Keller, 2025

Graffite Pencil on Drawing Paper

My art teacher, Darcie O’Brien, from Art With Elders, sent us a photo of this critter. It was a pencil drawn piece of art and we were to use it as a model to draw our own. I’d purchased a set of drawing pencils at her suggestion, to have the choice of tools to make the drawing. I learned that with the right tools it is more likely your results will be possible.

I love this little guy. He taught me to look carefully and as you look, stop drawing, then return and make the lines and shades as you saw them. Back and forth, loosing track of time and place, the only focus the spot you are working on. 

At the end of that week, my studio was opened for the South Valley Art Tour. We were just beginning our morning meditation with a group of friends, when someone knocked on our door.  I opened the door to find a friend I’d not seen in over thirty years. I didn’t recognize her at the first glance, but then looked into her eyes. 

“Margaret, is that you?”

“Yes.” I looked at the man who stood a little behind her.

“Bob?”

“Yes.”

I invited them in. 

I’d met her at age 16. A youngster who had been in trouble with drugs, and entered Synanon, a rehabilitation facility. She and I became very good friends. I was in my thirties, I believe. Margaret picked me as a mother figure. She volunteered to help me in the school. She showed up at meal times and helped us feed the children. She was a gentle soul and I loved having her around me.