One Year with Ralph: How My Pomsky Changed My Life, My Art, and My Perspective
One Year with Ralph: How My Pomsky Changed My Life, My Art, and My Perspective
Today marks exactly one year since Ralph, my Pomsky studio buddy, came into my life. It’s hard to believe that 365 days have passed, filled with challenges, love, and a whole lot of learning. This past year has taught me more about routine, trust, and standing firm in my decisions than I ever thought possible.
Ralph is, without a doubt, one of the most loveable creatures, but he’s also fiercely loyal and quick to react to people who aren’t me. From day one, he bonded to me with an intensity I hadn’t expected, and while that’s a beautiful thing, it’s also come with its own set of challenges. Family gatherings, for example, turned a bit chaotic—at Christmas, he got snappy with some relatives, and the idea of having family watch him when I’m away at shows went out the window. Thankfully, he adores his dog walker, but it’s still very much a work in progress.
There were moments when I wondered if I had what it took to be Ralph’s human. I remember telling people who suggested I give him up for the sake of my sanity, "Nope, I’m keeping the dog." It wasn’t always easy, but seeing the progress Ralph has made over the past year has been incredibly rewarding. My legs have grown used to the daily walks, and the routine has become second nature. While I haven’t yet figured out the logistics of taking him to art shows (or how to handle being away from him), I know I’ll get there. Besides, I don’t particularly love setting up shows or the awkward social dynamics that come with it—let's be honest, my anxiety makes me a little indifferent to how I come across. But truthfully, it’s more about the idea of being away from Ralph that gets to me.
Ralph has learned so much in the past year. He knows a few new words and is (mostly) good about waiting for guests—though, to be fair, we don’t get many visitors. He’s adapted incredibly well to my chaotic artist life, and while I dream of more space (and, let’s be honest, selling more art to make that happen), he’s taken it all in stride. He’s only knocked over a stack of canvas’ once, and the look of shock on his face was priceless. It was partly his fault, thrashing his toy and nuzzling up to it, but hey, lesson learned!
Our daily walks have become a grounding ritual, and I’m hoping his upcoming behaviourist training will unlock even more possibilities for us. His recall has improved drastically, but there’s still a lot to work on—his rambunctious nature and high prey drive means he sometimes darts off after foxes, leaving me to nervously wait for 30-45 minutes. he always returns hyperventilating and looking very happy with himself. But those wild chases are becoming rarer, I am reading his body language and taking in account the time of day more, and more often than not, he’ll come back when I call him, even if there are other dogs around, with having trained him on the whistle. Progress is progress, right?
Ralph is full of contradictions, but that’s part of his charm. He loves water and fearless but only if his paws can touch the bottom. Fireworks? No problem. But social noise? He’s not a fan. He’s totally fine with needles (thank goodness for the vet), but heaven forbid you try to remove a seed from his fur—he’ll let you know it’s not okay. He’s got such a unique character, and while there’s still so much to learn about him, I’ve come to appreciate his quirks.
Having Ralph has shifted my focus in so many ways. I used to spend a lot of time thinking about my art career, wondering about the "what ifs" and potential solutions. Now, I can’t afford to get lost in those thoughts (though they still occur)—Ralph needs his walk, his food, his grooming (which is a therapeutic and addictive task for me). I’ve also learning to manage my money better, making sure he has everything he needs while balancing my creative pursuits and realising I am most definitely spending more than I am making in the art, hope isn’t this positive thing, it cause you to make some weird decisions - those canvas would be perfect for a series which would do well at market…..fair enough but do I really need that many!
If I could go back and do it all over again, I’d probably be more protective of our time together in those early months. I’d have kept him on a long line for longer duration to build trust and really get to know him before sharing him with others. He’s now discovered that sniffing things is actually pretty interesting, rather than just darting off in search of excitement. There’s still the occasional bolt after a fox, but hey, that’s Ralph. I am learning the signs so it doesn’t happen.
Ultimately, I dream of a future where I can provide him with more space—perhaps a garden where he can roam freely and I can keep the paintings steerage from our living space.. It feels selfish to wish for these things, to want my art to sell well enough to support that lifestyle, but the thing is I am not selling art, I am selling ideas, hope and dreams, sometimes an image can remind us of the things we wish to thrive for. They don;’t sell a mattress but a good nights sleep, all I know is it feels good to create and I keep honing my craft, it’s who I am. I’ve always been an artist, and I struggle to do anything else. Plus my health doesn’t allow it. I’d love to make it full-time, to have a proper gallery, a bigger studio, and a home with more light and higher ceilings (seriously, I can touch mine without even stretching!). Ralph accepts me as I am, despite the clutter and chaos, and that acceptance has made everything better. Have to be grateful for what we have and it is easy to think what if and to keep wanting life to move onto other chapters.
Ralph has been my greatest challenge and my greatest reward. Here’s to another year of love, learning, and a whole lot of cuddles.
