Here at Camden Art Shoppes, we are just like you! We can’t help sharing our love for our four legged friends. Seriously, just ask us… we’ll tell you all about it! You could also take one of these amazing works home with you, or commission your own pet portrait done.
I watched my dog chase his tail for 10 minutes and thought “Wow, dogs are so easily entertained”. Then I realized I just watched my dog chase his tail for 10 minutes.—@HistoryyClub
Living with Weiners and Guys, Too
by Judy S. Watts
The Watts household is in constant turmoil as they do the dance of life with their wiener dogs. The dachshunds keep Mom, the Hubster, Surfer Dude and Manchild #2 busy and entertained as they deal with the antics of their herd of wieners. Author and veteran journalist Judy Watts’ first book of her popular columns, The Watts Line, is at home in Summerville, South Carolina in the greater Charleston, SC area. She lives there with her husband Patrick, an attorney, and youngest son Paul, an actor. Their oldest child, Sean and his wife Maya live in North Bend, Oregon with their daughter Rook. All are owned by the dogs they love.
Come to Camden Art Shoppes and get your copy personally signed by the author, Judy Watts!
Did you hear the one about the dog who ate a bunch of garlic?—foodjokes.one
His bark was worse than his bite.
WE DO PET PORTRAITS.
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The Power of the Dog
Rudyard Kipling – 1865-1936
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But… you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,Rudyard Kipling
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?