My Baby


Eric sometimes likes to refer to things he likes as “my baby” or “my babies.”  He would always talk about his horrific ’91 Camry as if it was the most amazing car anyone could ever hope to have.

It died the other day.  I had a hard time understanding his attachment to that car, but I totally get why he fell in love with this fawn when he found it on his parent’s driveway.

Holding this fawn was one of the coolest things I’ve ever experienced.  Here is a little video of Eric with his baby.  If you don’t know him, trust me when I say he’s TOTALLY smitten!

Don’t worry, the fawn was promptly returned to his mother.

Here are two closeups of my progress on the painting.  The first is the painting as it looked when I was working on it in March.  The second is the most recent photo of it.

Have any of you ever found or owned an animal that had you at “hello?”  Do tell!

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About Melody

My name is Melody Martin. Check out my art blog, and learn all about the steps and techniques that go into oil paintings.
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4 Responses to My Baby

  1. Eric Martin says:

    Where did you take that picture of the Camry? It gives it a regal feeling as if that’s the picture you would choose if the car had a funeral like a person would have. I like it.

    • Melody says:

      Eric, you make me laugh. I suppose if we wrote an obituary for our car we could use that picture. I took that picture at the Springwood Rd house…does it make you change your mind about the place? 😉

  2. Holly Niphakis says:

    I want to hold a fawn, too! It really rouses up the protective instincts in you, doesn’t it!
    My first car “baby” was a blue Studebaker. Bad brakes but nothing could tarnish the reputation of my Bluey!
    I don’t remember if I ever found an animal that had me at hello, probably because i didn’t want to be disappointed when my mom said NO and I didn’t want her to be mad at me. But I did find a nest of baby mice once that a farmhand was destroying. I was perhaps 9 years old and horrified that he would do this. He threw one up in the air, laughing as I screamed at him. I ran and grabbed up the pink, hairless blob and ran crying into the farmhouse and found a Dixie Cup with cotton to keep it in. During our 7 hour ride home it died and I gave it a burial. A plant grew there, though it was a weed, Lamb’s Wort.

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