Underneath her feet, the brightly colored leaves, fallen on the sidewalk, crunched softly from the morning frost. London's fall season was cold and wet, and few times were there crisp, serene mornings as this particular one. Isabel Bailey was dressed for the weather. Over her worn jeans and pastel pink sweatshirt was a long, tan coat to keep any unexpected rain off her clothes. Her feet were adorned in simple, black Chuck Taylors that broke the frozen leaves with every careful step she took. In her arms were a box of sketching pencils and a thick sketchbook with papers threatening to fall out of it.
Isabel was a semi-known artist in the large city, and most of her art was expressed in paintings. Her theme was people—ordinary people. Anyone that she saw on the streets were her models; people that were interesting in their own unique way. She sketched out lovers at downtown cafes, college students under trees, or figures who shied away from the public eye.
Currently, she was preparing to open her gallery at the end of the month and to avoid any more stress; she had taken the day off. Despite her efforts, Isabel couldn't help but bring her art supplies along. In her mind, there was always an art project, especially when she was least expecting it. The park was an inspiring environment, and she came to it often to find her models.
Sitting down on a dark green bench, Isabel crossed her leg over the other and set her sketchbook on her lap. While watching strangers pass by, she ran her fingers through her long, dark brown hair and studied the body language of the people who were talking around her. No one of interest was catching her eye while she observed. That was, until, she heard the sound of struggling, which caused her to turn her head to her left. A fairly large group of dogs rushed down the sidewalk, dragging a young man along with them, who made useless attempts to stop their tugging. Isabel smirked a little, watching the dogs lead him to the bench directly across from hers. It seemed as though the canines knew that their master needed a breathing break. Casting her gaze downward, she settled herself back against the bench and pretended to look busy with her art. She took her pencil out of the box and started to draw various lines on her paper. Grimacing, Isabel erased furiously, silently cursing over the fact that she had no honest models. After brushing away the eraser pieces, she glanced up at the man across from her, noticing how well he interacted with the dogs, despite the differences in breeds. Taking a closer look, Isabel realized that sitting beside him was a red parrot, which seemed to be chattering merrily away in the man's ear. Isabel looked down at her blank page and blew her stray strands of hair out of her face, despising her lack of inspiration. The process of brainstorming was not an easy process, but an idea suddenly hit her like a snowball in the face.
Quietly standing up, Isabel shuffled across the sidewalk and stopped a few feet away from the dog walker, careful to avoid the animals. The dogs, however, began barking excitedly and it easily caught the young man's attention. But, before he could speak, the parrot started the conversation for him.
"Look at the legs on that bird!"
"Excuse me?" Isabel answered, looking at the man for an explanation.
Chuckling weakly, he covered the bird's beak and offered her a smile. "I'm sorry; he just doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Uh… Is there something I can do for you?"
Isabel managed to smile and nod. "Actually, yes. You see, I'm an artist and I couldn't help but notice that you and your dog companions are adorable together. I'm opening a gallery at the end of the month, and I think that if you'd be open to it, I'd like to put you in it."
"What, you mean as human models?" he replied, looking puzzled.
"No, no!" laughed Isabel, "I meant that I would very much like to paint you and your dogs."
A grin spread across his face and rising to his feet, he bounced on his toes in excitement, "Sounds fantastic! I'd love to help you!"
"I should need to know your name before you model for me," Isabel held out her hand out of politeness.
"Oh!" he took her hand, shaking it, "My name is… er…"
"Kevin Shepherd," the parrot babbled out, hopping on to the grass and waddling over to them, "The stupid git can't introduce himself, let alone his own dogs!"
Kevin flashed his bird a warning glance before turning his attention back to Isabel. "Yes, Kevin… That's me. But what about you, Ms. Artist? You haven't told me your name…"
Letting go of his hand, Isabel placed her sketchbook and pencils in the tan messenger bag that hung loosely at her hip while speaking, "My name is Isabel Bailey, Mr. Shepherd. It's a pleasure meeting you. So, arrangements must be made as soon as possible. To have the painting hung in the gallery, I'll need to do this soon, if it's not too much trouble."
"Whenever is best for you…" he replied, ignoring the anxiousness of his dogs. They wanted to continue on their walk.
Isabel took out a pen from her bag and grabbed hold of Kevin's hand, writing something down on his palm. "This is my studio address, Mr. Shepherd. If you can come over tonight, then I can get the general sketch of you and paint the actual portrait later on."
Chuckling out of nervousness, Kevin looked down at his hand, admiring her elegant handwriting. If this was how she wrote, he could not wait to see what her artwork was like. "I can do that… Do you need me to bring these guys?" he motioned to the impatient dogs.
"Nah, I have one of my one," Isabel said and started walking backwards, away from him, "So, I'll see you this evening, yeah?"
Giving him a minor wave, Isabel started off on her way back to her studio, feeling relieved that she found one more project before her gallery opening. Kevin seemed like an honest and good-hearted man, and she planned to bring out those commendable in her painting. She believed all of her models were unique, but she wanted to make Kevin's portrait especially out of the ordinary. The relationship between man and man's best friend was, in her opinion, remarkable, and London was a world that would appreciate that image.
"Lucky, I'm back!" Isabel called out as she came into her small, one-story art studio which also sufficed for her apartment. Her works were scattered all over the floor and counters, but she easily stepped over each one to get back into her bedroom. Lying on her bed, Lucky, a Dalmatian, waited for his master patiently, his tail wagging in excitement. Isabel plopped down on the fluffy bed, landing beside her dog and kissing the top of his head. "I met a brilliant fellow in the park."
Lucky made a sound of uncertainty.
"Don't worry! He's only going to be a model for my last painting before the gallery opens. I was thinking that you should be in it as well, since he is a dog lover. Would you like that?" she asked, rubbing the Dalmatian's stomach. Lucky barked. "You'll love it. I promise."