As a follow-up to the previous story of my $45 ass-bite, I've found over the years that big dogs hate me. Little dogs and cats don't seem to mind me, some even like me, but big dogs suddenly become vicious killers when I walk into the vicinity. I don't know why, but maybe it's because I'm a mailman. I'm not a postal carrier, but I carry mail for the school district. To a dog I might be more hated than a U.S. mailman because I'm a fake mailman.
I found this drawing on illustration board being used as backing for a photo in a frame. I probably put it there in the 1970s and forgot about it. When I was learning how to draw cartoons and how to ink them with a brush and pen I did this drawing as practice. Even in the 1970s this sort of comic art was long passé, but there was something about this panel from a 1941 Batman comic that appealed to me. I've forgotten exactly what it was now, but maybe I was reaching back into my own past to the day when the big dog ran out of its house and bit me on my ass.
Ciao for now.
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