Portrait of a best friend

Dogs are, in many ways, a lot like people. No doubt that's why we like them so much. They're social animals who sometimes meet other dogs who become their friends. I expect that canine behaviour specialists would say it's all about instinct, and dominance, and pack formation, but I have my own simplistic point of view. Just as sometimes I meet a person I gel with, in my mind so it is with dogs. In one particular case, both my dog and I have the same good friend: a little black cocker spaniel named Roxy.

I met Roxy when she joined the family of some good human friends. She was a guinea pig sized ball of black fluff that could fit in the palm of your hand. Of course, when I laid eyes on her it was love at first sight! She was adorably cute and it soon became apparent she was also smart and oh-so-very sweet. Who wouldn't love her? We bonded... just like that.

Baby Roxy
(photo courtesy K. Enns)

When she and my collie Riley met, it was kind of the same reaction. They were firm friends pretty much from the get-go. Riley's a bit dominant and Roxy isn't, so Riley's the boss and Roxy's fine with it, deferring to her larger friend at all times. They're a good team. It's also a respectful friendship. Sometimes they play polite chasing games that never involve nipping or rough-housing (at least they did before Riley, now 11, developed arthritis).


Riley and Roxy playing "snow tag".


They often exchange beds and blankets or snooze peacefully side-by-side on the floor.



Who's sleeping in my bed?

(photos courtesy K. Enns)



Sometimes they team up to beg for treats by demonstrating who is best at sitting. They are both equally accomplished at this particular skill.

As time has passed our friendships, both canine and human, have strengthened.

An exuberant character, Roxy's humans have only to mention my name, or Riley's name, and the little black cocker is absolutely beside herself. I have only to mention Roxy's name and Riley's ears perk up and she goes to the window to watch for her friend. I'm told that when Roxy's humans drive with her to our house for a visit, she recognizes the neighbourhood as they draw near and once again, she is beside herself. And when we finally meet in person, she is absolutely over the moon, shrieking with delight! She can't decide whether it's me or Riley she wants to greet first and to shower with cocker-kisses. And Riley, whose personality is much more reserved, breaks into one of her long-snouted collie grins, wags her tail, and without embarassing herself, makes evident her great pleasure at seeing her little buddy.

Roxy is now six years old, and her humans recently decided it was time for a portrait. It's not the first time Roxy has been a painting subject for me. She was one of the rainy-day pack a few years ago in my silk painting "Three Red Raincoats".

"Three Red Raincoats" featuring Roxy, Riley
and wee Ginger Snap (sadly, now deceased)

When faced with the prospect of capturing Roxy's likeness in a portrait, there was one thing that was absolutley certain: it had to include her ball! Roxy is practically inseparable from her favourite red ball - sometimes she even sleeps with it in her mouth - and so no portrait of Roxy would be complete without it. For her expression, I tried to capture a demeanor that is sort-of calm but with a little underlying tension because in real life she is usually waiting for something - anything - to happen and is ever-hopeful someone will throw the ball. The result was this:



Thanks, Roxy — from me and from Riley for being good friend to each of us! I hope your human family enjoys this portrait for many years to come.




A Father's Day Gift

Over the past few weeks, I have had the infinite pleasure of creating this portrait of a strikingly handsome yellow Labrador retriever. I did not have the opportunity to meet this beautiful boy as he had passed away some time ago, but I was provided with a series of photos and a heart-felt description of him. He was a good dog, a kind and wise companion who travelled with his family to many interesting places. He enjoyed games, and grandchildren, and lying at his master's feet. He was an excellent listener. He is very sadly missed, particularly so by his master who was the family member with whom his bond was the tightest.

The timeline for completion of the portrait was very specific as it was to be a Father's Day gift. In an interesting coincidence, this dog had himself been a Father's Day gift many years earlier as a wee puppy. While I wouldn't normally advocate that pets be given as gifts (too many end up unwanted in the end), in this particular situation it was a match made in heaven. His master, who had never previously had a dog in his life, was smitten with the yellow pup and the pup loved him equally well. Throughout their many years together I understand they were an inseparable team. It was a great honour for me to have the responsibility of creating this portrait which holds much meaning for the dog's master and his family, and which will become a memorable and valued part of that family's history.

Working on this portrait caused me to think about Father's Day, something I haven't done in many years. You might say I haven't had good luck with fathers. I lost the first one in a tragic accident when I was just an infant, then the grandfather who raised me, who I called Dad, passed away before I reached adulthood. Thus for majority of my years I have been fatherless and subsequently Father's Day hasn't held a lot of significance. However, when I was working on the portrait of this sweet yellow dog, something about it twigged a memory. I went to the family photo stash, and found this:

This is Dad (my grandfather), gone now for many, many years. He was what you'd call in days-gone-by a "man's man". He was an outdoorsman, a farmer, a bit of an adventurer, and even a pioneer. It's from him I learned about the outdoors and animals, particularly horses, and with whom I spent countless hours helping mend fences, dig in the garden, harvest hay crops, even shingle a roof - all the many chores that our small farm required. And who is that with him in the photo? Why, it's a yellow dog - doubless a mutt but very reminiscent of a yellow lab! I remember this dog only vaguely. I don't even recall his name. He was a farm dog and, as was the way at that time, he lived as such: he came and went as he pleased and one day he simply didn't come home. I do remember phone calls being made to the local pound but the nameless yellow dog was never seen again. All these years later here he is in this old photo, sporting a big grin and accompanying Dad who was no doubt out checking the fences or the ditches or inspecting the livestock. Thankfully someone had the where-with-all to take a picture of that moment. It's clear there was a bond between this nameless dog and Dad, and as I was working on the portrait of the well-loved Labrador, my fond memories of Dad came flooding back to me.

So in the end, I too have received a Father's Day gift in the form of childhood memories of a man who helped mould me into the person I am today, memories that have been renewed thanks to a small, yellow puppy who joined another family on Father's Day so many years ago.

Pardon me while I brag just a little...

This past Saturday I was having a horribly busy day on top of what had been an equally hectic week (or two, or three) leading up to it. What with meetings, project deadlines, another project undergoing complications, and a variety of obligations both personal and otherwise, I felt like I was being run positively ragged! Something had to give - it was not humanly possible to accomplish everything on my list that day.

To preserve my sanity, I decided that the opening of the "Just Birds" exhibition at the Newton Cultural Centre in Surrey, while something I was very much looking forward to attending, was the one thing I could forego that day. The exhibition runs till the end of the month so there would be other times to see it. I knew my silk painting Quiet Reflection: Sandhill Crane, pictured below, had been juried into the show, and a little bird (no pun intended) had informed me that it had won a prize. However, given my seemingly insurmountable task list and factoring the time it would take to drive to and from the gallery, I didn't attend the opening of "Just Birds". Instead I chose to hunker down in my studio.

I was immensely relieved to come to that decision. I made good headway on all the many things I had on my plate without the stress of feeling completely overwhelmed. It was glorious! I felt I had made a wonderful choice.

Then... late that evening... I received a congratulatory email from another artist: my painting had won Best of Show! Wow!! In order to save my sanity that day I had missed my moment in the spotlight. However, I'm beyond pleased to receive this honour and am looking forward to seeing the exhibition later in the month. I invite you to view "Just Birds" at the Newton Cultural Centre, 13530 - 72nd Avenue, Surrey. The gallery is open 10am-3:30pm daily and the show runs till June 30th.

And for those of you who would like to see a sandhill crane in person, visit the Reifel Bird Sanctuary in Ladner. I stopped there recently and was delighted to see two adults with two youngsters roaming the grounds near the entrance.

Jays, Jays and more Jays!

Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of having six enthusiastic artists join me in my studio for a day of coloured pencil drawing. Our subject was this Steller's jay:

Each of them worked diligently throughout the day on their projects, assisted by my input and guidance:

After practicing a few techniques, they started with this outline:

... which gradually transformed into this:

... and eventually resulted in this:

We were visited part-way through the day by the family of Steller's jays that lives in my neighbourhood (you may remember my blog about them a few weeks back entitled Year of the Jay). Happily all five of them are still together - the babies have survived and are flourishing! That day, mom, dad and the three now almost-adult youngsters came squawking and flapping up to the bird feeder right outside my studio window. Unfortunately I didn't have the wherewithall to grab my camera, but it was a delightful moment for all of us to see these lively, colourful birds up close as we worked to capture their likeness on paper.

I'd like to thank all the workshop participants for joining me for a pleasurable day of learning and creating in my studio. I hope each of them went away with some new knowledge and skills, an appreciation for that day's colourful subject, and the inspiration to continue making bird-related art. (I'll be organizing some new workshops in the fall, so anyone interested in participating should keep an eye on my website, or get in touch with me to be placed on my email list for notification.)

I was pleased to see - and hear - the jay family in my yard again this morning, the youngsters still begging for tidbits from mom and dad and squabbling, as siblings often do, over treasures they happened to find themseves. I did manage to quickly snap one photo through my front patio door when one of the youngsters paused on the railing:

It's wonderful to live in a place where these wild creatures can be observed literally right ouside my door. Unlike some wildlife, they're not particularly exotic, or only to be found in remote wilderness, or considered unusual or uniqe by any stretch of the imagination. However, these common birds are captivating creatures who have managed to adapt to life in the suburbs. Their presence certainly enriches my life and they enhanced the experience of the participants in my workshop last weekend. My cat happens to think they're interesting too.

Road Trip!

This past weekend I travelled to Vancouver Island to participate in "Art and Blooms" at the Kitty Coleman Woodland Gardens, on the north side of the town of Courtenay. The journey across the water by ferry then north by road up the coast of the Island is always one I enjoy - the scenery is spectacular, the pace of life is slower, and there are always wonderful opportunities to view local wildlife. This trip was no exception!

As I drove along past the village of Union Bay, the car in front of me suddenly swerved into a parking lot beside a public pier. The reason? A large colony of sea lions was sunbathing on the floats just a few yards off shore.



Dozens of sea lions resting, squabbling and making lots of noise!

Taking full advantage of the sunshine.

Sleeping nose to nose.

Their barking was so loud I could hardly hear myself think! I observed and photographed them while other cars swerved into the parking lot and viewers came and went. I'm told the sea lions can always be found at this location in the spring when the herring run is under way. It was an interesting coincidence to see them when only a short while earlier, I had dropped off this particular painting at Monk Art Gallery in the town of Parksville:

This silk painting of a bull sea lion resulted from observing a colony
in the Broken Island group, off the west coast of Vancouver Island.

There were other creatures capitalizing on the abundance of herring, most notably these mergansers who I saw fishing one evening near the home where I was staying for the weekend, as well as an otter. Unfortunately, they were all just a bit too far off shore and the light too dim for my camera to capture good photos.

Greedy mergansers gobbling fish.

An otter making a brief appearance.

And this blue heron, a true icon of the west coast, perched gracefully in a tree with the mountains of the mainland providing a gorgeous backdrop.

Over the weekend, I spoke with representatives of the Mountainaire Avian Rescue Society, a group which specializes in rescuing, rehabilitating and releasing injured wild birds and animals. They are seeking funding for a study of the great blue herons, a species now considered "at risk" due to human encroachment on their habitat, and have applied for a $25,000 grant from Shell Canada. The success of their application is dependent on the number of votes they receive online between now and the end of October. You can support this group in their efforts by voting for them. Visit their website at www.wingtips.org for details.

My silk painting of a blue heron fishing off shore, observed on Vancouver Island last year.

Another notable sighting over the weekend were these unusual saddleback cattle with their unique white middles (a quick Google search informed me that they're a breed called Belted Galloways). They're a heritage breed that I previously have observed only while travelling in England. Grazing contentedly with their farmer and flowering fruit trees in the background, they were decidedly picturesque!

Belted Galloway saddlback cattle at a farm in the Comox Valley.

Then there was the art show itself, located a beautiful garden setting with lush vegitation and an abundance of rhododendrons in full flower. With a welcoming and well-organized host, a congenial group of talented artists and artisans, and plenty of public interest, the event got off to an auspicious beginning under sunny skies. Unfortunately Mother Nature did not continue to cooperate and two subsequent rainy days made for less-than-ideal conditions (I won't bore you with photos of that).

My "mobile gallery" display at Art & Blooms.

And now, after an uneventful journey home, I'm back in my studio reflecting on the weekend and on the pile of projects that awaited my return. Stay tuned for another road trip next month!

Year of the Jay

I'm having a difficult time concentrating on getting much done in my studio this morning. Why? Because in the rhododendron bush right outside my studio window, is this:

... and this:

and this: 

Who could possibly get any work done with a trio of Steller's jay fledgelings just inches from their window?

I had been suspecting for some time that a pair of Steller's jays were nesting in our shrubbery. As visitors to my studio will know, the adults had been regularly visiting my feeding station, which is positioned just outside another of my studio windows, and for several weeks they have been sounding shrill alarms whenever a neighbourhod cat or crow ventured near. Plus I overheard them cooing and murmering to one another, whispering sweet-nothings in the privacy of our hedge. But until these little guys left the nest two days ago, I wasn't certain. The jay couple was being very careful to keep the location of their nest under wraps and I still don't know quite where it is. Once the babies were mobile, the parents ushered them around the back yard till they ended up where they are now, snuggled safely among the branches and foliage of an overgrown 30+-year-old rhododendron.

Vigilant parent

As an artist, I find jays fascinating. They're brash, in-your-face birds who rule their territories, proclaiming the presence of predators, hogging feeding stations, and generally making sure they're never ignored. They can be pretty overbearing. However, in the case of Stellar's jays, their gorgeous blue plumage makes me forgive all their other less-than-perfect qualities.

Steller's Jay (Coloured pencil drawing)

Last week I received the exiting news that my most recent drawing of a Steller's jay, (pictured below) was accepted into a national exhibition hosted by the Coloured Pencil Society of Canada. It, along with another my drawings (Wren and Salmonberry), will be travelling to Ottawa in July and then to Montreal in August. I'm delighted to have had two pieces juried into this exhbition of works from across the country.

Solitary Steller's Jay: Early Spring (Coloured pencil drawing)

Given these brash blue birds are figuring prominently in my life this year, I am designing a new coloured pencil workshop that focuses on birds and it seems only natural that I use a Steller's jay as the primary subject. The workshop taking place in June is already full but I'll be taking names for the next one.

As for the three wee birdies outside my studio window, I am hopeful for their survival. The parents are vigilant, they're well hidden, and my collie Riley and I are helping out by making regular patrols to keep marauding neighbourhood cats at bay (cats allowed to roam free take a huge toll on the songbird population, just one of the reasons I'm an advocate for keeping cats indoors). The little guys get stronger by the hour as their parents regularly bring them bits of food.

In honour of this trio of little birds and the influence their species has had on my art practice, I'm officially proclaiming 2012 as my own personal Year of the Jay. I am already planning a new silk painting.

Where's Duke?

This morning I opened my e-mail to find a message from my advertising representative at Canadian Horse Journals, urging me to look at an attachment. I figured it was going to be a copy of the latest ad that I'd booked with them — nothing too earth-shattering but worth viewing over my cup of coffee before getting down to work for the day.

The attachment turned out to be the cover of the latest edition of the annual Equine Consumers' Guide (pictured below). As you can see, it features a collage of photos depicting various content from this year's edition. Nothing too remarkable... then I looked a little closer. Just like in the popular "Where's Waldo?" game, I spotted a familiar face. Can you see it? Look at the bottom third of the page, just slightly right of centre.

People who know me and know my artwork are aware of the fact that horses have always been an important part of my life. While I'm currently horse-less, for many years I was the proud owner of a wonderful palomino Saddlebred/Quarterhorse gelding named Duke. His portrait graces the new home page of my website, and it's his face that greeted me this morning, peeking out from the magazine cover. What a lovely way to start the day - like receiving a surprise visit from an old friend!

When people enquire about commissioning an animal portrait, I often tell them about my own experience. I made Duke's portrait when he was in his prime and it has always graced my walls (except for a period after he passed away and I had to put the portrait out of sight for a few months - I was just too sad to look at it). Now each time I see it, it makes me smile and remember my sweet boy. I know first-hand that a portrait can be a pretty special legacy that only gets better with age. It's that proverbial gift that keeps on giving.

Isn't art a wonderful thing? Not that I'm at all biased, of course.

Note: The Equine Consumers' Guide is published annually by Canadian Horse Journals (www.horsejournals.com).

Evolution of a Portrait

For the past several weeks I've been working on a coloured pencil portrait of an absolutely stunning dog - a big male Rottweiler. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to meet this dog prior to starting work, giving me a chance to experience his energy and dynamic personality first-hand. He's a smart, strong, athletic dog who I found to be quite charming and who is totally devoted to his person.

Lucky for me his person is also a very competent photographer so in addition to the photos I took when they visited, I was also supplied with a selection of great shots that gave me insight into the dog's younger years. For the portrait pose we selected a photo that was taken recently but it was the owner's wish that the dog, who is now getting on in years and looking a bit grey around the muzzle, be given a more youthful look. For that, I referred to the earier photographs.

I often intend to photograph a portrait in progress but it usually goes out of my head completely once I get engrossed in the project. However I'm pleased that I documented several stages of the process of creating this particular portrait. (I apologize that that  the quality of some of the photos is not great; the lighting I use at my drawing table is ideal for drawing but not for photography.)

Step 1 - Soft drawing in medium French Grey.

Step 2 - Mapping out the values and beginning to add colour
(I like to understand the anatomy of my subjects, hence the image of the skull)

Step 3 - The portrait begins to come to life

Step 4 - Further refinement

Step 5 - Almost there!

With helpful input from the dog's owner I'm now in the final stages of making some subtle adjustments, but here is the more-or-less finished portrait:

Step 6 - 99% complete!

Creating any portrait is, for me, like embarking on a long trip with a new acquaintance. There's a saying that "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step" and in this context that single step is my first pencil stroke. As the journey progresses and I fill in the details, we get better and better acquainted, and by the time we reach our destination we've become firm friends. That's how I feel about this big guy!

I hope you've enjoyed sharing this particular journey with me.

All zoos are not created equal

I just got back from an over-night trip to Seattle. My primary goal was to see the exhibition "Gauguin in the South Pacific" at the Seattle Art Museum (it was terrific), but en route I stopped at an old childhood haunt: the Woodland Park Zoo, a place to which we journeyed for occasional family outings when I was growing up. As good as the Gauguin exhibition was, it is the zoo that I keep thinking about.

As an individual who has a strong personal interest/affinity for animals, and as an artist whose practice revolves around depictions of animals, I have a love-hate relationship with zoos. I'm drawn to them as a way to see/experience spiecies I would never have a chance to encounter in the wild. I appreciate that they have become havens for species whose existence in the wild is tenuous, and I am particularly pleased when zoos engage in programs that help bolster wild populations. I also feel that zoos can give children unique opportunities to experience animals and can be important to helping them build empathy and understanding, and thereby offer hope for the safety of future generations of wild creatures. After all, zoos were important to me as a child and contributed to my development as an artist. However, all-too-often I am repulsed and saddened when I see animals living sad lives of captivity in conditions that range from less-than-ideal to downright horrific. Thankfully, this was not the case in Seattle. I have visited zoos in many places but rarely have I had such a positive experience as at the Woodland Park Zoo this week.


Giraffes in their "savannah" enclosure.

I think the really unique thing about this zoo is that the comfort of animals appears to be the number one priority. The enclosures I observed do a good job of emulating natural habitats and they are, for the most part, spacious and allow the animals room to move or to seek out areas of privacy should they wish to. Monkeys can be seen perched high in trees where they nibble on foliage; giraffes stroll around their "savannah" tasting twigs from high branches and comfortably sharing their space with ostriches, zebras and the like; birds in the tropical rainforest fly about, courting and nesting. Lush vegitation throughout the park makes the journey from enclosure to enclosure often feel like walking through a forest. The fences, moats and barriers are often integrated into the exhibits in such a way that, in many cases, viewers are oblivious to their existence. While I wasn't able to see the entire park, what I did see gave me warm, fuzzy feelings that this is a good place for animals - at least as good as possible in a zoo environment. 



South American toucans interacting (notice the grape in
the bill of the bird on the left - a gift from his/her mate).

A magnificent Russian eagle - larger than a bald eagle and endangered in wild.
The Woodland Park Zoo engages in a breeding program to help support wild populations.

One of the most striking experiences I had was observing the brown bears (aka grizzlies). There are two of them and they were actively engaged in gnawing on what they obviously found to be delicious raw bones. Their large enclosure is designed to emulate a river valley (and I'm told by a local Seattle-ite that it's going to be expanded). One bear gave up his bone and slipped into the pond, which is enclosed by glass that allows viewers to see below the surface of the water, and he actually went hunting for large, nervous-looking fish (trout?). He splashed and swam, stole the bone of his grizzly companion, toyed with a huge log, and appeared for all the world to be as happy and content as such a magnificant creature can be in a captive setting. The children on the scene were delighted, as were the adults, and I felt privileged to have the experience of being within inches of a very lively grizzly without the concern that he would be the last thing I ever saw!

It's been several decades since I last visited the Woodland Park Zoo but I know I'll be going back soon, camera and sketchbook in hand, to again observe its residents. I offer kudos to the zoo society, its staff and volunteers, and the people of Seattle for supporting this exceptional place.

If you are interested in visiting the Woodland Park Zoo, it's located on the north side of Seattle and only a two-hour drive from the Lower Mainland of BC. Visit www.zoo.org for more information.

Rascally Rupert: A cat like no other

It has been raining here for several days and nights. Maybe it's a cruel April Fool's Day joke but this morning the rain has let up and glimpses of blue sky can be seen! Hopefully this means the end of this dreary, soggy spell. However, I'm not getting my hopes up just yet only to have them dashed - I'll wait with my fingers crossed to see how the day unfolds.

Needless to say, the weather has confined me to my studio. Not a bad thing at all, given it's pretty much my favourite place to be. I've been photographing a coloured pencil work-in-progress that I'll feature in a future blog, but today I'd like to introduce one of my own four-legged companions - one who has offered much entertainment and artistic inspiration over the 16+ years he's spent with me. I'm talking about Rupert, my elderly gentleman cat (and I do use the word "gentleman" loosely).

"Prince" Rupert at rest.

I adopted Rupert when he was about 6 months old. He had been rescued as a wee kitten, half-drowned, half-starved and near death, from a roadside ditch. His rescuer nursed the foundling back to health but a few months later suffered a housing crisis and was forced to re-home most of her animals. Having met and been charmed by the young cat with the big personality, I offered to give Rupert - then named Fraser after the roadside where he was found - a home. Had I known just how big his personality really was, I might have thought twice! As anyone who has met Rupert will attest, he's a feline force to be reckoned with.

Rupert, as you'll see by his photos, is an orange tabby, medium haired - a fairly ordinary looking guy. What doesn't show is that he is quite possibly the most outgoing cat in the world. Those who think that cats are stand-offish, independent creatures have never met Rupert. He craves constant attention, loves everyone, and is completely confident that everyone loves him and will give him their undivided attention any time, any place. He asserts his feelings by pawing at human legs, grabbing at hands, walking on keyboards, shoving his head between pages of books or newspapers, clambering onto laps, and purring at decibel levels that rival a jet engine. Despite frequent rejection (after all, nobody can give a cat their full attention 100% of the time, 24/7), Rupert does not take it personally and always comes back for more. And if there is mischief to be made, he will make it - plus he'll check to see that someone's watching him do it!

My coloured pencil drawing of Rupert in a paper bag.

Rupert was absolute best friends with his younger "brother" Jasper, another orange tabby who joined our household in 2001 and who, to our sorrow, succumbed to cancer last year. They were a great match - Jasper was every bit as timid as Rupert is outgoing, and so despite outweighing Rupert by a considerable amount and having the advantage of youth on his side, Jasper deferred to his smaller, more-assertive older housemate.

Jasper (left) and best friend Rupert (right).

My coloured pencil drawing of the two best buddies.

Jasper and Rupert - together as one.

A photo of Rupert and the silk painting he inspired. Rupert provided
the pose but it was Jasper who became the subject of the painting

When Jasper passed away last April, Rupert was devastated (as, of course, was I). He would roam the house crying as though searching for his lost friend. He was off his food and out of sorts, and I greatly feared for his well-being. To placate Rupert and to bring some joyful new energy into the house, 12-week-old kitten Archie joined our family, thanks to the good folks at the Katie's Place cat shelter. Archie is a topic all to himself and will be featured in a future blog post, and thankfully his presence gave Rupert a new lease on life (again, people who think cats prefer solitude to the company of other cats have never met Rupert).

Rupert and new friend Archie

Rupert will turn 17 in a month or so and for an old geezer he's doing pretty well. He's a bit scrawny due to a thyroid imbalance that's controlled by daily medication, plus he has an ongoing sinus problem that causes him to sneeze mightily every so often (usually when he's snuggled up to me... yuck). He still gets into lots of trouble on a regular basis and manages to keep youngster Archie somewhat in line. For having had a rough start, or maybe because of it, Rupert has gone through life with a philosophy that we could all take to heart:

• never take no for an answer;
• have as much fun as you can;
• get in as much trouble as you can without coming to, or causing, great harm; and
• be confident that the world loves you

Rupert, the party animal.

The sun is now really, truly shining and the outdoors beckons.