In the 1970s, my daddy had a dove hunting dog that he loved dearly. His name was Champ. When Champ died, he had an artist do an oil portrait of him.
You can’t make that junk up.
So I stole it out of his man haven cabin in the country and relocated it to my dining room. We’re sort of collecting all things Americana for that room and Champ just makes sense.
I thought daddy would be hesitant to let it go, but instead he said, “You think it’s cool? I think it’s real cool. I’d love to see it hanging your house. Yeah!” So, here we are.
Welcome to 7th Street, Champ!