Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Singing to My Sister's Dog Zoe

There is a reason that I seldom sing in public.

I cannot sing.  My sister sings.  My sister sings like an angel.  It is one of her many gifts.

Singing is not my gift.

But I LOVE to sing.  I have always loved to sing.  As a teenager, I used to sing in the Youth Choir at church – but only because it was a small congregation & bodies were necessary.  My friend Donna Pippin was the star of the choir – singing has always one of her many gifts.

Donna Pippin’s mother, Beverly, recommended to my mother that I take Speech & Drama in high school.  Clearly redirecting me from wasting my talents on singing.

Or from butchering every choir performance.

When I was in high school, my friend Colleen Tubbs & I would encounter one another in the walkways along the patios of Coronado High School & burst into song.  Usually something from The Doors or Three Dog Night.  Colleen didn’t seem to care that I cannot sing in the center of the note. 

Actually, I cannot sing anywhere near the center of the note.

Sometimes, even now, at 63, I sing.  In the shower, in the car, listening with my earphones on the laptop or my phone.

Today, I sang to my guest, my sister Janet’s dog Zoe.

Suddenly bursting into a rendition of “Here Comes the Sun.”

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right
Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say
It's all right

Zoe looked up from her perch & did not laugh.  (Believe me, Zoe laughs.)

She did not tilt her head from side to side in wonder.

Zoe listened & then put her head back down & shut her eyes.

No doubt thinking, when are David & Janet coming back so I can hear music again?

So later in the evening, I tried a different verse:

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
And I say, it’s all right
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
It’s all right, it’s all right

Zoe was more forgiving & generous during this serenade.  She wagged her tail, asked to be petted & waited for a treat.

She has trained me well.The only book I have about dogs is The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time.  Which begins with the death of a dog in the night time.Not a good night time story for a loved & adorable dog.

Perhaps Zoe will settle for a treat & a space at the end of my futon while I read (to myself) a novel about Mr. Darcy’s version of that whole Pride & Prejudice story.

And a promise not to sing.

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