I wrote and worked up a song entitled Hound Dog got the Blues, sung with an infantile speech impediment (Elmer Fudd, so Hound Dog got the Bwues, we bring no wabbits home today), with our Basset Hound who would howl whenever I hit a four-hole draw. Unfortunately, she contracted lymphoma and had to be put down. The song is still, alive, however, but my wife is a soprano, the howl is sort of a screech. I hope I don't have to put her down. She cooks a mean veal parmigiana.
FMW, that post just makes me shut up. For a moment. Yeah I got a little pussy here that gets agitated if I play red river valley. I dunno what goes on with her. She tries to get the harp. Jumps up and tries to grab it from my mouth. I dunno. It's amusing, but its not clear she hates the sound. She can sleep through most harps below C, but a D will make her leave the room. Red river valley though, she will come find me and try to take the harp. It's almost like its a prey animal... ----------
