Love Sweet Love

I think we always wanted a dog. We begged our parents for ages. And of course they always said we weren't old enough and who would walk it and clean up after it? A dog was responsibility and we weren't ready for that responsibilty yet. We started dogsitting the pets of neighbors to prove how good we were about it. And earned a little cashola on the side. (Sidenote: I am alternatively shocked and horrified when I find out how much people pay little kids to do things. They either pay them way too much or way too little. Same with allowances. You'll hear about some kid getting $20 a week in allowance. When I was a kid we got like $5 or something.) Still, we weren't ready, they said.

But we whined and we cajoled, and little kids can be beasts about things like this and eventually our parents gave in. And so we got a dog. The dog's name was Muffin and he was a great big Old English sheepdog. The cutest thing ever. I think those cartoons of that sheepdog are pretty spot on accurate where the dog has to blow to get the hair out of his eyes to see. They really are that shaggy.

And little kids love to pet dogs. They love to chase them. And getting in the little nooks and crannies where they can get to, well little kids can get there too. Muffin, like a lot of dogs, liked the spot underneath the table. It's a place where there's not a lot of foot traffic but there's also good eating from time to time when people are careless with their food or maybe they are feeding some scraps all furtive style.

I like to think that was Muffin's sanctuary. His place to go to, to reflect, and mull on the life of a dog.

But Muffin was never alone under the table. No, there were three of us. Breny, Lou(my sister), and me. And one day Lou was there and she was presumably so happy to be alive and in the company of Muffin that she picked up his ear(the better to hear her with)and shouted in his ear, "I LOVE YOU MUFFIN!"

Sometimes love hurts.

Muffin wasn't altogether too pleased because his first reaction was to bite my sister. Maybe he was thinking we're under the table, no one will ever know!

Sometimes love hurts.

And Muffin never saw the Shelkey household again. I often wonder what became of Muffin. I also often wonder how it is dogs are suppose to act natural and behave around children because children are inherently bonkers. They are the type to tease dogs. To pull their tail. To yell in their ear. To step on them. To try and ride them. To hit them.

And we expect them to just sit there. And if they don't, we say, bad dog! Squirt them with lemon juice. Lock them in their cage. Their CAGE. Isn't that a little unfair? I mean, that's a textbook abusive relationship. What kind of message are we subconsciously sending our kids?

Sometimes love hurts.

(Sidenote: We had a 2nd dog, her name was Callie. Actually it was Calliope Mr. Spock Shelkey. A West Highland White Terrier for long, a Westie for short. These are those dogs that look like Scottie's only they're white. Anyway, since this is a band blog anyway, I thought I'd mention that Callie liked to sing. But she could only be coaxed to sing when you played the harmonica. Something about that lonesome sound made her want to howl. But the thing that blew my mind is that she would howl in key. I mean it really would be in whatever key you were playing. I wish she were still here so we could record Callie singing a solo for the band. What can you do? I have two cats, Roberto and Jake and although they are very interested in music especially the strings of guitars and the keys of keyboards. They have not sung for me yet. But maybe there's some instrument I haven't played yet that will coax them into song just like Callie and the harmonica. The search continues...)