Studio Mascot

Rosie with Angry Bird


As my heart opens more and more in this autumnal phase of life, I am better cherishing the creatures in my life. One of these creatures is a little dog named Rosie.

My daugther and I believe we rescued Rosie from some druggies who bred their owner-fearing dogs once a year, touted them as Chihauzers, Chihuahua-Schnauzer mixes, and sold them for drug money. Our first visit to see the puppies, we saw a white one that had a bump on its head. The next visit that one was gone. “Adopted” they said. But the puppies were too young, not yet weaned. So, we waited fingers crossed until they were ready for adoption, took one they had named Rose, and talked a friend into taking another one. In a way we supported the druggies by paying them, but we rescued the dogs.

Rosie kinda went under the radar for many years, as I had another dog who had even bigger brown eyes and was incredible loyal, to the point of being constantly needy. He was a standard poodle who we called Lumbray. He passed early in 2015.

Lumbray and Rose Nov 2010


Rosie and my relationship then began to grow. I love Rosie for her independence and spunk. She’s one of those dogs who will be playful even in old age. She has moments of hilarity, of wisdom, of affection, of sport hunting, and adventure. She’s become my ranch dog, hanging with me while I move firewood or mend fences in the empty horse pastures. She is incredibly sensitive: if she were a horse one would never be able to ride her. Each night now, as I watch the recorded evening news, I invite her onto my lap, remove her collar, and massage her neck, head, and back. Each time she lets down more and more. She’s come to trust me. Trust life. Trust that her start in an abusive environment is too far gone to ever come back.

One of her biggest gifts to me is this. I’ll be working at my desk and either a frustrating phone call or an impossible website will upset me. Rosie gets up and sneaks away. She does not like negativity. Nor does my body like negativity. So Rosie has become my barometer, letting me know when my attitude / mood / state of being is not where it could serve me, promote health, and maintain well being. I change it then.

I entered a photo of Rosie in a studio-mascot contest that a metal-clay site was hosting. This is how she volunteered (not) to become my mascot. Even though she does not like coming to my studio with me (too small, boring, and at times too noisy), she does contribute to my studio life. For example, each time I walk out the yard gate, across the drive, and into the studio I tell her I’m going to work and that I’ll be back soon. Each time I come back across the drive and into the yard, she greets me like I’ve been gone forever. Imagine this several times a day.

At this time when I am struggling with merging my personal life with my metal-clay life, I realize Rosie might be giving me yet another road to take. I am a private person. I live at the end of a road. No one drives by. I don’t socialize much. I have few friends with whom I am close. I totally identify with the introvert in those introvert cartoons. I’m super sensitive, which gets me into trouble often. High sensitive was the phrase once used.

I know I’m supposed to inject a personal aspect into my art for commercial reasons, yet I have a real hard time with this. I try to keep the two separate; as in, here is a photo of me and that’s enough. Then I made a video which nudged me a little further along in connecting the two sides of me. And Rosie is becoming an avenue whereby I can integrate my silver work with my personal life while growing my Spiritual aspect. Wow. Imagine having everything. I don’t know how this is going to progress, I just feel it is. I’m following a feeling here.  

I got going on Instagram, anticipating sharing photos of silver creations but all I could upload were Rosie photos. I just started a Pinterest board for her, my studio mascot. Perhaps that’s how you got here. I decided to explain for you and for me how it is I have a dog for a mascot, who she is, and what she represents. I began this blog. Blogs in my mind are a thing of the past, so I called this one Writings. But the URL calls it a blog. You see, I had a blog before that I want to erase from the Internet, so if I call this a Blog, this page will replace the old one. Hopeful, anyway.

I plan on writing from my soul, which I used to do often and quit for some reason. I gotta get back there. In my next post, you’ll see why.



© Kris A Kramer 2016