Music For Animals

Dog That Name
(Canyon Moment #2)

“From now on, I won’t refer to people by their dog’s names. I’ll refer to people by their own names.”
We had taken a break from recording to walk the dogs. They were making so much noise we couldn’t do vocals anyway.

“It’s really strange.” I was telling Jeremiah as we walked up towards Grandview.

“What’s that?” he said craning his head to watch two blue jays going ballistic on a squirrel in a eucalyptus tree at the top of the hill.

“It’s about the dogs.”
“The dogs?”

“Yeah, the dogs — in the canyon. I never thought about it until just now when you asked me about my neighbor.”

“What does your neighbor have to do with the dogs in the canyon?”

“It just came to me. I know the names of my neighbor’s dogs better than I know the names of my neighbors. When someone asks me who that person down the street is, I say, “That’s Bartok’s owner. When I think about it, everyone up here knows everyone else by their dog’s names. If you meet someone walking their dog, the first thing both of you do is — introduce your dogs
.
“Seems reasonable to me,” Jeremiah said, “I like my animals better than most of my friends.”

“I mean really! Every morning I walk Daphne around the hill. Every morning I meet this guy walking his dog Lucy. Every morning we greet each other. I say, “Hello, Lucy.” He says, “Hello, Daphne. We talk for a while then he says, “Good bye, Daphne,” and I say, “ Good bye, Lucy.” I don’t remember his name. He doesn’t remember my name. We know our dog’s names three generations back.

“This happens all the time!” I was starting to get worked up. “I mean it’s not just Lucy! It’s Neutron, and C-dog, and Sheldon, and Wilson, and Annie, and Rosy, and E-Z, and Buck Shot, and the twins, and. . . . !” I was really getting into the metaphysical possibilities of calling people by their dog’s names, not to mention the fact I was starting to hyperventillate when a car horn brought me back to Earth.

Webster (my mostly miniature Schnauzer) chose to bring my epiphany to an abrupt end by choosing the middle of Yucca Trail as fitting and comfortable place to make his morning deposit — directly in front of a Jeep Cherokee. I grabbed Webster, collected the little speed bump he had left in the middle of the road, yelled at Jeremiah to get Daphne away from the poison oak and waved the Jeep on.

“Good thing Webster pooped when he did, you were starting to lose it with that dog name thing,” Jeremiah said as he got Daphne in tow. “I think we’ve been in the studio too long.

“Amen,” I replied, “That’s probably it. I won’t do that again. I promise.”

We were standing at the top of the hill. We watched the Cherokee turn around and head slowly back towards us.

She’s lost. I can tell by the look on her face,” I said, “She’s gonna ask for directions.”

Sure enough, the Jeep rolled to a stop. The driver leaned over, rolled down the window and asked us if we knew where a certain address was. According to the numbers, it should have been right down the street. I didn’t have a clue as to where the place was. She said she’d been up and down the street for twenty minutes and couldn’t find it. She had asked three other people and they didn’t know either. I felt sorry for her she was so upset. Sometimes up here in the canyon you never find the address.

Then I had a brainstorm!

“By any chance do these people have a dog?”

“Why yes they do.” she said.

“Would you happen to know it’s name?”

“Bandit.”

“Bingo,” I said with a smile. “Around the curve. It’s the fourth house on the left. Park right behind the black Camarro.”

She thanked me and drove off towards Bandit’s house. I turned to say something to Jeremiah but he was already headed down the hill towards the studio shaking his head and talking to the dogs. . .