SCOTT LUDWIG: The lasting value of art from the heart

My parents had a dog that, as best as I could tell, was equal parts black lab and water balloon. That’s why I always referred to Jenna as “cartoon dog.”

The name Jenna was given to her by my mom because the canine’s eyes were the same color as the eyes of her favorite character on Dallas, a role played by Priscilla Presley.

One of the highlights of my dad’s day in the latter years of his life was taking Jenna for a walk around the neighborhood. Dad said he was doing it to get the dog out of the house. But we all knew better. The real reason was so dad and Jenna could take a walk around the block and interact with the children who were riding their bikes or doing whatever else it is that little boys and girls do when they’re playing outside.

Naturally, all of the children knew Jenna, just like they knew Jenna’s dad could always be found on the business end of the leash. But everyone knew who was really calling the shots in the relationship: the one closest to the ground.

One of dad’s favorite possessions was a drawing given to him by one of the little girls in the neighborhood. It was a simple picture she made of dad taking Jenna for a walk.

I know it was one of dad’s favorite possessions because he looked at it every day until the day he died. It was no accident that it was stuck to the side of the refrigerator – where he couldn’t miss it if he tried.

I always found it amazing that something so simple – a stick-figure drawing of a man walking his dog – could have such a profound effect on a person. But that’s exactly what it did to dad. It was his constant reminder of how something so simple and given freely without expecting anything in return could bring him so much joy.

It also reminded him of two of his favorite things: the children in the neighborhood and their four-legged friends.

Dad’s been gone now for more than 17 years. It’s hard to believe that it’s taken this long for me to understand how something so innocent and simple made him so happy.

And I might not have realized it at all had it not been for Cadence.

Cindy and I took a vacation recently, and our regular pet-sitter wasn’t available to care for our cat, Morgan. So we asked a neighbor if her young daughter would be interested in caring for Morgan – with mom’s assistance, of course.

Cadence, a 7-year-old second-grader, who according to her mother loves cats, said that she would love to. We learned it would also be Cadence’s first paying job, so Cindy and I were sort of honored in that respect.

Here’s where the story gets even better: Morgan couldn’t have been left in better hands. Throughout our vacation, we received daily updates on how things were going on the home front. The updates were always accompanied by photos and videos of Cadence and Morgan, suggesting that the two of them were becoming fast friends.

When Cindy and I returned from our trip, we found a drawing – autographed by the artist, of course – stuck to the refrigerator. Incidentally, it was placed exactly where I couldn’t possibly miss it, even if I tried. My guess is that it is going to be there for a while.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about life, it’s that life comes full-circle. At one time, the concept didn’t make any sense. It implies that things begin when they end, and end when they begin. But how can that be?

Then one day, everything suddenly made sense. And it was all because of the artwork of a 7-year-old girl named Cadence.