THE DOG

"I was a good boy.
For years.
For years."

— THE DOG —

He was good. He was so good. Nobody will ever fully understand how good he was for how long.

He waited by the door. Every time. He forgave things that did not deserve forgiving. He asked for so little — a walk, a word, just someone to notice — and he was grateful for even less than that.

And then one day, quietly, something shifted. Not anger. Not a scene. Just a dog who finally stopped waiting for the door to open and decided to have a moment for himself instead.

The gold in his eyes isn't bitterness. It's just everything he held onto, finally let out.

— FROM THE ARTIST —

The woodblock texture was the only way to paint this — rough, layered, like something that's been through a lot and still held its shape. The red felt like all that patience, finally having somewhere to go.