Farley: Browse The Strips

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Once in a while, I would put a bit of religion into Christmas and Easter strips to prove that I DID know the reason for the celebration and to assuage the readers who thought I was far too focused on the commercial aspects. I could guarantee three kinds of mail when a strip like this was released: One came from the Christian right, who asked that much more focus be put on ecclesiastical issues; one from the atheists, who felt that I was pushing religion down their throats; and finally the moderates, who appreciated the occasional reminder that festivals like this deserve a nod to the deity for whom the chocolate was fashioned and the bells were tolled. Again, I tried to answer every letter I received. Even if I disagreed with someone's philosophy, I certainly appreciated the time they took to write to me.

Monday, December 31, 2012

Lynn's Comments: I remember waking up on the morning of January first hoping to see something new--anything that would tell me that a new year had begun. This is when I became interested in calendars. My first calendar was courtesy of the BC dairy farmers who sent one to all their customers. It had a cow on the top, and stapled to the base were the twelve months of the year--ready to be written on and torn away. I must have been around six because I could write well and I remember making notes on each month--like a grown up.

Friday, January 4, 2013

Lynn's Comments: The truth of it was that we were all in pretty good shape. We walked to wherever we needed to go. We cut and piled firewood, we added to and repaired our own homes, we gardened, and in general, we worked hard. In the strip, I was imagining what it would be like to live in the city where I might have had more time to join a gym than my husband had. (Not that I would have actually joined a gym!)

Friday, January 25, 2013

Lynn's Comments: My affinity for the art of George Booth comes out in the way I draw interaction between people and pets; George was able to make the funniest of statements with body language and a simple, knowing glance. Although I only met him once, he has been one of my best teachers!

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Lynn's Comments: One of the things I resented about working from home was the inability to get away from housekeeping. I was jealous of friends who would dress well, leave for work, and enter an environment devoid of kids, dish detergent, and the omnipresent whiff of laundry. I thought it would be wonderful to have a separate space to call my own, and to have adult conversation when I needed a break from it all. Interestingly, the friends whose work-space I envied, thought I was the one who had it made.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Farley, the real dog, hated baths. If he just heard the word, he'd head for the hills. I usually washed him outside, but during the winter, I would stuff him into the tub, which meant the entire bathroom got wet along with him. After I dried and brushed him, Farley looked like a massive plush toy, his fur poofing out as if he'd stuck his tail in a light socket. He would look like this until he had to go outside, where he'd find something dirty to roll in. He was a lot of work, but I didn't mind. He was family...and a real character!

Friday, March 1, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Here is another strip that got me into hot water. Readers thought John had actually KICKED the dog in panel two! What I had tried to show was John putting his foot under Farley's rump and moving him. I would never have shown someone kicking a dog! This taught me to never draw an action unless I could draw it well! .

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Naming a pet or a person in a comic strip requires about the same amount of thought as naming something or someone for real. I tried to imagine what I would call a hamster--and a name beginning with "H" seemed like a good idea. "Humphrey" appealed to me both because it's not a name commonly heard, and because I liked the "Humph" sound at the beginning.... it's sort of a British "snort," an expression of contempt or dissatisfaction. You never actually hear a "humph," it is most commonly seen in print. I think in the US one might say, "harrumph!"--but this has a slightly different connotation. Ahhhh... the semantics of sound.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Sallie's guest did not get away like this, but a reader told me about their hamster's disappearance. It was eventually discovered months later in a nest he had made for himself inside their couch. A rodent is a rodent after all!

Monday, March 25, 2013

Lynn's Comments: I would occasionally use the floor of my studio if I had larger illustrations to sort through--or to dry. Art supplies are a magnet for kids, and mine were often in the room looking for scrap paper and other things they were allowed to have. One time I did have posters drying on the floor and Katie did accidentally walk on them. Fortunately they were dry, but she was so upset, she cried. Today she is an artist, too--so even then, she had respect for original art!

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Aaron balked at learning to read music and practicing, but he did love his rented trumpet. With my brother's guidance, he polished the bell, oiled the valves, and cleaned out the tube--which would otherwise fill with fungus, mould, and other odious flotsam (nourished by the moisture and foodstuff propelled by vigorous breath). The instrument itself was a beautiful possession, but it came with the guilt of not practicing.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Lynn's Comments: I had a good-sized wash tub in the backyard. It would take two of us to get him to the tub and then into it. Once he was in, he gave up the fight and put up with the scrubbing.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Lynn's Comments: After he was bathed and dried, it took another hour or more to comb out his fur and get him to look good again. The final touch was an elastic band in his hair to hold it away from his eyes. The ability to see, however, gave him a clear shot at the ravine behind our house or the nearest pile of stink he could roll in. I don't think he ever stayed clean for more than a day, but it was worth the effort just to have him smell good for a change!

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Now that I am dogless, I find dog breath hard to take. When I had Farley, his breath came with warm licks, and his enquiring sniffs were more than welcome. Even so, there were times when I couldn't stomach the smell. Once, when Farley ate my chives, I was overwhelmed by his breath, but there was one time that was much worse; I was standing at my kitchen window watching him happily lying on the warm driveway, chewing something he'd found with obvious relish. He chewed with that look of ecstasy, the look children have when they're eating ice cream, that blissful satisfaction that comes with flavour and fun and mouth-watering fulfillment. He'd toss his head back, reposition his prize, and chew again. He was happy. Eventually, my curiosity got to me and I went out to see what succulent something he was chewing on. I couldn't believe my eyes. The object he was blissfully savouring was a flat, well-rotted, dried-out toad. To Farley, it was dog jerky. To me, it was horrible. I would have shown the true source of Farley's halitosis, but really, it was too gross for publication! [Eventually this gag did make an appearance, with Edgar doing the dirty deed.]

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Lynn's Comments: When I read that saying "I don't do mornings," I see someone who doesn't have kids. If you have a family, you do mornings until everyone is grown and gone. You do mornings in your pajamas and housecoat, and if you're lucky, you can swill down a coffee while you dress. The only family member with the luxury of NOT doing mornings is the family pet, who simply wonders why everything has to be so complicated.

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Because Aaron was four years older than Katie, she was left out of a lot of activities. She couldn't race away on her bike or cross the street alone or camp out with the boys in the backyard. She became attached to her dad (since I was working full time in the house) and spent hours with him in his workshop learning how to glue things and make stuff. I think this is why she is so comfortable with tools and to this day can build or fix just about anything!

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Our first dog escaped the humiliation of being dressed up. Aaron was only a few months old when I sent our big Old English Sheep Dog, Farley, to live on a farm. Willy, our next dog, wasn't so lucky. Patient and easy going, Willy, a small black spaniel, succumbed to the creative energy of two kids with a full costume box. Willy put up with wigs, hats, pants, bras and footwear. He wore baby clothes and pirate gear. Without protest, he allowed himself to be transformed into whatever the kids conjured up, and I guess from a dog's perspective, this gentle abuse was a means to an end. When Willy was in full drag, he got what all pets yearn for: extra treats and loads of attention!

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Lynn's Comments: There were times when I envied my dog: no bills to pay, no groceries to buy, just hang around and be loved. On the other hand, boredom, kibble twice a day and the lack of freedom must drag a guy down.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Lynn's Comments: We always had bubble lights on our tree when Alan and I were young. They were our favourite ornaments. We loved to play with them and take them apart. One Christmas, Alan was very sick. He had a high fever, and just to prove it, he put the glass tube from a bubble light in his mouth--and it bubbled! What a nifty thermometer! We thought Mom would be angry, but she wasn't. When you're feeling miserable on Christmas morning, anything that makes you smile is just fine.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Lynn's Comments: This is the prayer my grandfather always said before a big meal. "For what we are about to receive, may the lord make us truly thankful." We thought it was a great prayer. It was sincere. It was genuinely heartfelt, and it said what needed to be said--before the gravy got cold!

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Lynn's Comments: I am guilty of letting my dog run about without a leash. We live in the country and our little black spaniel, Willy, was free to go where he pleased--which was usually next door to my in-laws' for toast and coffee. The neighbours didn't say anything--for the most part they let their pets out as well. It wasn't until the school bus nearly ran over Willy that I paid more attention. He died of cancer years later, but I never forgot his close call.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Lynn's Comments: Gary Larson (The Far Side) once sent me a Christmas card, which showed a house with a brightly lit window through which you could see a group of wildly partying dogs. In front of the house, on a white lawn, was a snow sculpture of a fat cat. A path of paw prints lead from the door to the snow cat--the side of the cat was yellow! I guess cartoon minds think alike.

Monday, January 20, 2014

Lynn's Comments: One of the reasons FBorFW wasn't translated into many other languages was my constant use of colloquial expressions. When the imagined dialogue included something like "end of his rope," I had to use it!

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Lynn's Comments: Sheep dogs have big, wide feet, and their toes are webbed to some extent. This means that a snowy walk will result in wads of frozen snow plugging the dog's foot pads. I'd have to spread his toes and pull each chunk of snow out of the crevices--and with it, remove hair and dirt as well. It's a messy process, and the only rewarding thing about it is the look of relief on the dog's face when it's done!