I like music. You pooches probly do too, right? It’s amazing to me how humans can make such Cool Kibbles sounds with strange things called IN-struh-mints: blowin’ into long funny shaped things, pushin’ liddle poles across curvy boxes they stick under their chins (no woof!), boppin’ up-an-down a long line of black-an-white thingys called keys, hittin’ round things with sticks. You’d think it’d be a big noisy mess but somehow it sounds really nice. THEN, when humans join in an sing instead of talk, it’s called OPP-ruh. Just sayin’.
Anyway, this week I innerviewed a pooch who knows all about that stuff, Figaro Rutllant, a hansome Samoyed, Big Fluffy Snowball of a poocheroo, not quite 3, super frenly an gentle, still with a lotta puppy in him, very well-mannered, an lookin’ snazzy in a Cool Kibbles Burberry Check neckscarf. An wait till I tell you about his un-MAZE-ing talent.
“Good evening,” I said, as he trotted up for the Wag-an-Sniff. I felt like I’d bumped into a huge, soft snowball. “I am Bonzo an this is my assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“My pleasure, too, Mr. Bonzo. I’m Figaro (named for the mountain) an this is my Daddy Emilio an Gramma Clara. I can’t wait to tell you my tail. Specially the music part. OR, do you wanna go PLAY first?” he asked hopefully.
“I’d love to,” I said truthfully. “But I’m on the clock. Maybe another time!”
“OK!” responded Figaro. Then his attention was drawn to The Satchel, from which my assistant was producing a yummy biscuit (after havin’ gained permission from Figaro’s Daddy). Figaro sat politely, nose to face with my assistant, then delicately received the biscuit.
He munched as I opened my notebook, then began his tail.
“My Daddy is a Really Pawsome Musician (that’s somebuddy who plays MU-sic.) That’s his work. He plays with a big bunch of musicians, with all different kinds of instruments – it’s called an OR-kess-truh. Daddy plays the FLOOT.
“He was livin’ in Minnie-APPLE-us, Minnie-SODA, an playin’ with the Minnie-APPLE-us OR-kess-truh, which is FAY-muss. Then he decided he wanted a com-PAN-yun. An, of course, us dogs are the BEST at that, right?”
“Ab-so-woofin’-lutely!”
“Daddy checked around an found ME at a breeder in Wiss-CON-son. I was from a workin’ line, not a schmancy show line. See, I have all white fluff with biscuit ears an this nice big biscuit patch on my side!
“Anyway, Daddy was workin’ so, when I was 10 weeks old, Gramma Clara flew from here to Wiss-CON-son to get me an we drove up to Daddy in Minnie-APPLE-us. By the time we got there, me an Gramma were Besties. I still tell her about my entire day soon as she gets home from work.
“I was born out in the country, so I wasn’t used to Big City apartment living, an all the loud noises. But our apartment complex was Dog Frenly, with a nice dog park in the middle. That’s where I met my Pooch Posse: Misty, Valentine an Rooney (all grrrls!). In the winter, Daddy built us a snow fort in the middle of our park. Us Samoyeds love snow, so I always stayed out the longest.
“Daddy grew up here, an we moved back in September 2020. I’d been here to visit so I was used to it bein’ warm. I get SO excited at the beach. I try to bite the waves, but I don’t go all the way in the water. Daddy an Gramma say I can swim, but I can’t quite wrap my bean around that CON-sept yet. I love chasin’ lizards an fallin’ leaves. When I was a pupper, I had a Chewin’ Issue. Once, Daddy had this wooden Pan Flute. It was when we were up in Minnie-APPLE-us, an Gramma was down here. She had a special TV thingy so she could see whatever I was doin’. WELL, when she saw me happily chewin’ Daddy’s new flute, she started hollarin’ at the screen. Of course, I kept chewin’. So she started franically throwin’ treats at the screen.
I’d stop for a second, an sniff the screen. I couldn’t nab a treat, of course, so I went back to chewin’ till the flute was in shreds.
“Another time, I ate almost my entire Important AKC Certificate. Thank Lassie, Daddy stopped me before I got to the VERY IMPORTANT bottom part.
“I’m usually pretty calm, except when there’s motorcycles. Or storms. Gramma got me a Thunder Shirt, which is like a Big Hug. Helpful, but I still get scared, so I cuddle with Daddy or Gramma.”
“Any favrite foodstuffs?” I asked.
“YES! Chiggen, wabbit an arugula!
“But my favrite thing in the world is Music! The first time I heard Daddy practicin’, it was like – magic! It’s hard to ekk-SPLAIN. I closed my eyes. An just started to make sounds. Not barky or howl-y. An now, whenever Daddy practices, I sing along. Wanna see?”
“TOTALLY!!”
Figaro’s Daddy took a long silver tube from its case, held it out to the side of his mouth an started playin’. (Not braggin’, but I ackshully recognized it: a piece from an OPP-ruh called ‘Carmen.’) It was beautiful. Then, Figaro closed his eyes and began to sing. It was amazing.
Not loud, just clear, hummy ah-roos, he was following the melody, stopping an starting with his Daddy’s playin’. I couldn’t buh-leeve it.
Neither could my assistant, who immediately complimented Figaro. He hopped onto a nearby chair, rested his chin on the armrest, an, as his Daddy began playin’ “Happy Birthday,” closed his eyes an joined in.
Figaro says his Daddy plans to go back to school to be a doctor, an he’ll also keep playing his floot with different orchestras whenever he can, an Figaro will always keep joinin’ in.
Heading home, I was woofin’ around to see if I could sound like Figaro. So far, I think I’ll leave the singin’ to Figaro an I’ll just write about it.
