sutton059

www.metmuseum.org Gift of Robert Hatfield Ellsworth, in memory of Jean E. Mailey, 1994 This Ming Dynasty textile (China, late 16th - early 17th century) shows rabbits gamboling about in the clouds. Made of silk gauze with silk and gold threads, it's not only luxurious but fortunate: rabbits brought all sorts of good things , and were companions of the ageless Moon Goddess.

Dewitt Miller (American, 1857-1911) was wholly a man of letters.  An educator, speaker, and minister, he is perhaps best known as a book collector .  Like many (most?) of us book enthusiasts, he had a soft spot for cats.  Here's what his friend Leon Vincent recalls: Other animals besides those of the human  race were the objects of Miller's benevolence. He delighted in parrots, squirrels, cats, and dogs, and had a profound respect for a horse. I well remember his satisfaction when the high-bred Angora cat that dwelt at the Glen jumped on his knee for the first time of its own accord; he had not looked for so great an honor. His face beamed as he stroked the little creature's head with his ample hand. They made a comical pair of comrades, Miller being so very large and the cat so exceedingly small. Two or three of his cat-friends always received at Christmas time postal money-orders (made out in the name of their respective masters), to the end that they might p...

Copyright © 2000–2018 The Athenaeum (PD) That's the title: "Cat Basket." (Also known as "Study of Cats III," but everyone seems to prefer the other.)  This delicious Franz Marc from 1909 shows a free gusto in the strokes used for the cats' fur.  Don't those cats look plush and twitchy, as though they'll bounce up and out at any second?  Perhaps he was painting quickly in case they did. 

Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Gift of Miss Emily Sargent and Mrs. Francis Ormond in memory of their brother, John Singer Sargent.  © President and Fellows of Harvard College All of 3 9/16" x 5", this pencil sketch by John Singer Sargent found its way to his sisters Violet and Emily upon his death in 1925. They gave it to the Fogg Art Museum in 1931.  My favorite part of this drawing?  The eyes. Two little heavy presses of the pencil, and you've got a perfect look at that particular weariness only a dog shows in his sleep.  Cats?  Total absence of care as they nap.  Some dogs though always look like they're guarding their universe still in their dreams.

John Charles Dollman [Public domain] -Table d'Hote at a Dogs' Home, 1879, detail May each and every one of you find joy and tasty treats wherever you may be today!   Here's my favorite bit of the painting above: Happy Thanksgiving, dear readers!  I'm grateful for you.

www.nationalmuseum.se,  Purchase 2013 Sophia Giesecke Fund We've seen Bruno Liljefors' cats  here before at the Museum, pretending for a few moments to be mighty lords of the jungle as they hunt and play in Swedish fields.  As winter closes in here in the Northwest, I find it pleasant to post another.  Cat in a Flowery Meadow was created in 1887, a memory of a young cat and a fine day that reminds us of other kittens and blooms to come.

www.nationalmuseum.se Purchase 2012 by Hedda and N.D. Qvists Fund Here's a couple of bad-ass, black-clad art types from early 20th century Sweden: Selfportrait with Dog , an undated oil sketch on cardboard by Bernhard Osterman (1870-1938). Osterman's work included graphic art, cartooning and arts management, but he's best appreciated for his portraits.  He traveled widely in Europe, and spent years practicing in Paris.  Most of his portriats are of the famous and important, and they look as formal as you'd imagine.  This self-portrait is more of an experiment, I think, in which Osterman tried his hand at a freer technique and feel that was more in line with Impressionism.  Was that his own dog, I wonder, or did he borrow him as the perfect counterpoint to his own black-clad figure?

    http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/agc1996003764/PP/

His name was Apache, 25 pounds, black eyes and black and white hair, rated Dog1c.  Or in any case that's what his Navy ID card said.  In honor of Veterans' Day, I'd like to send you to the Naval History Blog's article introducing us to Apache and others: the journalist Scoop, the freshly buzzcut Musume, and Rickey at attention.  Here you go . And to all veterans, human and animal, thank you for your service!

Purchase, The Charles Engelhard Foundation Gift, 1989 www.metmuseum.org An evil spirit would think twice about bringing pestilence to your door once it came up against this mastiff.  Dating from the Near Eastern Kassites of the 2nd millennia B.C., this mighty fellow is a sterling example of the culture's ceramic mastery.  He's all of 16.3 x 14.17 inches, but his presence is much bigger; I fully expected to hear he was closer to 3 feet tall.  The record for this work at the Met states that he may have been a guardian figure representing Gula , the goddess of healing.  As intimidating as he appears, I remind myself that his ferocity would be a source of security against the unknown powers of disease sneaking through the door.  You want a brave friend for that; here he is.

OUR DOG JOCK A rollicksome frolicsome rare old cock As ever did nothing was our dog Jock; A gleesome, fleasome, affectionate beast, As slow at a fight, as swift at a feast; A wit among dogs, when his life 'gan fail, One couldn't but see the old wag in his tale, When his years grew long and his eyes grew dim, And his course of bark could not strengthen him. Never more now shall our knees be pressed By his dear old chops in their slobbery rest, Nor our mirth be stirred at his solemn looks, As wise, and as dull, as divinity books. Our old friend 's dead, but we all well know He 's gone to the Kennels where the good dogs go, Where the cooks be not, but the beef-bones be, And his old head never need turn for a flea. Attributed to "Payn" (possibly James Payn ), in Leonard, R. M. (Robert Maynard). The Dog In British Poetry. London: D. Nutt, 1893. p. 193.