Art...I Don't Want to Do This!

 

Have I mentioned how much I hate selling art? I haven’t actually listed or sold any yet but the windup to get ready for the job is driving me crazy. The windup includes watching online videos on how to pack big things but the biggest problem is getting the material needed to ship them---glassine paper, corner protectors (for the framed art in the house), large sheets of cardboard or core-board for the unframed stuff and extra wide bubble wrap. I’m still looking for egg crate foam for the framed stuff. Not the typical shipping supplies that I’ve kept on hand these past few years. If my husband was alive I’d be chewing his head off about now because he’s the one that put me in this situation. How? He loved the western artists especially James Bama, Wayne Cooper and Gordon Snidow and every year when he’d go out West elk hunting he’d come home with a new, signed and numbered print. We ran out of walls to frame and hang the stuff but that didn’t slow down his obsession and fast forward to now when I’ve got a 31” x 41 ½” faux leather zipper case full of 14 unframed prints to measure, research, photograph, write up, prepare for shipping and finally list.

Some guys bring shot glasses and bed bugs home from vacation. I suppose I should be grateful Don had better taste in souvenirs and he spent his nights camping in the mountains---or that he came home at all. One time out West he stretched out on a large, flat rock to take a nap and woke up with a rattlesnake curled up on his tummy. His hunting buddy took a photo or I would have thought they were telling a tall tale which has always begged the question: Who takes the time to photograph a thing like that? His buddy said he thought about killing the snake with his hand gun while the two of them slept---holy crap!---but he decided against it because his aim wasn’t that good. The Cliff Notes version of the story is it took long stick and a very nervous Don who had to stay as still as a fence post to end it.

Back on topic: Another problem I’m having with gearing up to sell prints is figuring out a starting a bid and a Buy-it-Now price. I’ve discovered that a lot of people trying to sell prints on e-Bay don’t know the difference between a poster quality print and a signed and numbered or artists proof prints. From what I’m seeing in the unsold section is that buyers do know the difference and that’s a good sign for me. I have never done Buy-it-Now sales on e-Bay until this month and I’ve been selling off and on e-Bay since 2000. I can’t believe I’ve never tried it before. Within an hour of listings fifteen things I had four things sell at my pie-in-sky price while their rock-bottom starting bids were passed over. One of those early sales was a folding wash basin, field gear from WWI. We have a leather donkey footstool (also turn-of-the-century) and that basin was what the donkey "drank" from. I love that old guy and will hate to see him go.

I have had great success selling a few big items on Facebook Market Place this past weekend. Levi’s antique fire hydrant that was in my dog pen and a large, four-sided glass showcase that was in our library and held the small collectibles I've been selling off. Both sold within 24 hours of me listing them. The fire hydrant, however drove me crazy or rather the people who contacted me about it did. Within an hour I had 32 people messaging me with offers. The first guy who set up an appointment to pick it up bellied out on me at the last minute because his wife “wouldn’t let him buy it.” In the meantime seven or eight guys kept checking back with me to see if the first guy who had the appointment took it. And way too many of the people who sent messages need to brush up on their communication skills. It’s like the old joke about the proper use of capital letters i.e. there’s a difference in meaning between “Help your Uncle Jack off his horse” and “help your uncle jack off his horse.” People would send messages like ‘20’ and that’s all. Took me a long time to figure out that meant, “Will you take $20?” Uh, No! It’s listed at $50 or BEST offer. The couple who ended up with it bought it for their dog to use instead of their their shrubs. They were super friendly and easy to talk with as they dug it out of the ground. Two antique fire equipment collectors offered $80 and $95 but they came late to the party. I think Levi would be happy that his fire hydrant is going to another canine. ©

A lady who collects tigers had been looking for a larger showcase than the one she's outgrown. She was thrilled with this one. While her crew was here to load it in a truck one of the guys bought the two animal skulls that I had de-cowboyed out of my living room last week. He got a good deal and I was happy I didn't have to list them on e-Bay. It felt good to be wheeling and dealing again.

This is hydrant that I just sold. It was made in Tennessee in the '50s and was used in Colorado where my husband bought it and 2 others. We rode all the way home with those hydrants on the floor of our motor home. One we sold right away for what we paid for all three. A smaller hydrant, early 1900s, was on display in our garage for years. It sold at the auction house last summer for over $200. I hated to see that one go. It had a lot of brass on it and was a real cutie. I don't know if it's true in other places but old fire station equipment has always been quick sales for us.

The Dilemma

Dogs are like little people who don’t wear clothes or own big collections of CDs or radiator caps that you have to dispose of when they pass. You don’t have to close their bank accounts, stop their cell service or notify Social Security or the post office but I do need to get Levi taken out of my will. Although come to think about it he’s not mentioned specifically by name. It just says that a $1,000 for every year left on my dog’s estimated life span is to follow the canine to help with care. And that amount is to be taken out of my assets before the four humans in my will gets a cut of whatever I might leave behind when I die. Now that Levi is gone one of my heirs could try to pass a puppy off as one I recently adopted and scam my estate out of an extra twelve-fifteen grand which is as good as any other reason to justify me actually getting a puppy. Screwball logic. I could teach a class in that.

Ya, I know, Levi’s only been gone ten days. It’s too soon to be thinking of getting another dog and I ask myself if it’s fair to get one when my own life expectancy wouldn’t out last a puppy’s. But here’s the thing. I’ve never in my entire life not had a dog. When I told the son-I-wish-I-had and my youngest niece about my should-I-or-shouldn’t-I dilemma the son said, “You’re the best dog mom I’ve ever known. You need to get one.” And my niece said I should because “you won’t be you without a dog” and we laughed about how my mom used to yell at me, “Put that dog down! She has legs!” In my defense I held Sarah to keep her from getting stepped on when there were a lot of people in the room. If I happened to be swaying from side to side at the same time that didn't mean my dog was spoiled. She was well behaved, as sweet as pecan pie and as cuddly as a teddy bear.

I won't lie. A few days ago I looked at rescue dogs at the Pet Finder’s website and I know myself well enough to know that I don’t want to take on one of their senior dogs. The under 12-15 pounds dogs like I'd want all seem to come with housebreaking and dental issues and I wondered if at my age they would let me adopt a rescue under five. My oldest niece says they only care if you've got the income and a safe space to have a dog and she just helped my older brother find a rescue dog so I pretty much know where she stands on my too-old-or-not-to-have-another-dog dilemma. 

Then I did a brief search of puppies for sale in the area and got sticker shock. I expected $1,000 but $2,500 to $5,000? Wow! Either way, I feel the pressure to decide sooner rather than later because it would be so much easier to train a dog or puppy while I’m still living in a single family home. At Pet Finders many of the listings say, "Fenced yard required, No exceptions!"---especially the with the little dogs---which means I'd never get an adoption placement after I move. And did I mention I'd need a hypoallergenic dog? In other words my search criteria would be limited to a breed that doesn't shed, doesn't get bigger than 12-15 pounds and isn't so old that it need thousands of dollars' worth of dental care and a dog that doesn't have housebreaking issues well into adulthood. The negatives are stacking up quickly against getting a rescue.

Levi: 14 weeks old

I decided that I’ll make myself wait until my birthday in April before I look at anymore puppy and rescue sites. Who knows, by then maybe I’d quit missing having another living presence in the house, quit expecting to see Levi here and there. The longest I’ve ever been between dogs is four months and
we got Levi the day after our other dog died, but Cooper was older and had been sick for six months. I was never sorry that we got Levi so soon after. He brought a joyful sense of purpose to our days after months of watching Cooper fade away. And finding Levi was either fate or serendipity---I could never figure out what to call it. Several weeks before we got him I’d been early for an appointment, had some time to kill and there was a sign by the road that said, “Puppies for Sale.” I stopped to kill some time and they had a boy and a girl schnauzer left in the litter. I fell in love with the little girl.

Two weeks later, the day after Cooper died, I told my husband I was going to go back and see if the girl was still there and if she was, she was meant to be ours. She was gone but Levi came home with us instead. He was 14 weeks old by then and his price had been reduced from $800 to $400. He turned out to be the easiest puppy I've ever trained and Cooper had been just the opposite. Cooper had been taken away from his mom and weaned at five weeks---way too young and that caused some issues that

Cooper 4 months old

required the services of a "doggie shrink", a guy the vet recommended who trained guard dogs for the military. In two sessions he evaluated what my nine month old poodle had already learned at obedience school and how he interacted with a litter of German shepherds twice Cooper's size and taught me how to get tiny Cooper to understand that under no circumstances was he allowed to bite. To this day I swear it was the threat of a shock collar more than me developing a super-dick Alpha persona that did the trick. I keep thinking, do I really want to go through all that again, a year of intense dog training? Could I even find my Alpha voice after years of not needing it with Levi? Most of the time I answer yes/maybe. Decisions, decisions. I just may let fate or serendipity make the choice like it did with Levi.

Levi’s things were everywhere and I’m still running into stuff…like in the freezer where I kept a bag of string beans for his snacks. Coupons in my coupon envelope. And it took my breathe away when I opened the front door and saw the sticker on the storm door that reads, "In case of an emergency please rescue me" and then it showed a picture of a schnauzer. Doing my income taxes I ran across Levi's folder in my file cabinet and I still haven't put those papers through the shredder. It took me several years to shred my husband's papers and even then the project was laced with tears. It seems so final to cancel a life out like that. Blankets and beds and stainless steel dishes. Collars, harnesses, leashes. You name it, Levi didn’t lack for material possessions just like his human parents but at least that stuff can all be donated if I choose not to love on another dog. Shredded paper by default have to end up in the garbage because recycling doesn't want them clogging up their machines.

The photo at the top was taken of Blackie---my first dog---and me sitting outside of a playpen. I have others showing us together inside the playpen, Blackie in various sizes, me not so much. We were raised together only she learned how to escape the ‘cage’ long before I did. But I’ve been told she’d jump back in if I was crying and if my mom didn't come in a timely fashion Blackie would bark to help get her attention. 

Got time for one more dog story? This one is about Jason, a poodle who came after Sarah and before Cooper. He was a wise, old soul right from puppyhood and one time we took him to a nursing home to visit my husband's mom and there was another resident there who had a bunch of stuffed dogs lined up on her bed. She obviously liked dogs so we thought maybe she's like to pet Jason. When we asked from the doorway of her room she screamed at us to get our mangy dog away from hers! We learned later that the woman spent her days 'training' her dogs. We also learned that when we took Jason to visit the nursing home that if we sat in the lobby, hordes of residents would come to us wanting to love on our perfectly groomed 'mangy dog.' Jason could do circus tricks and parlor games so he had a fan club at the nursing home. Wise old soul that he was Jason seemed to know what each person in his audience needed be it a cuddle-hug, a handshake, a slide-of-hand trick, or to make deep eye contract as if he was conducting a seance and helping them communicate to their own, long lost pets. Oh my gosh, I have so many great memories that involve the dogs in my life but this post is already way too long. ©

Cooper picked some interesting places to pee and my husband loved photo-documented them---it's a guy thing, I suppose. Cooper more than earned his nickname, The Trouble Bubble but he was also a lot of fun and he kept his own blog both before and after he died. Angel Cooper helped little Levi learn the ropes during his puppyhood and he introduced Levi to his other siblings up at the Rainbow Bridge.