My dad, among many things, was a musician. He played piccolo in the Marine Corp band, trombone in the local repertoire group ‘the Highlanders’, and the reveille on his trumpet Christmas morning if you were not awake and present. My dad played his music for his country, for occasional money but mostly for the sheer joy of it. It was in essence who he was, a musician.
The one who seemed to delight the most in his playing was Shotty, the collie/German shepherd puppy with half a tail who dad brought home one late afternoon. Sitting together on the grassy hill next to our house dad would play his trumpet while Shotty would throw back his head and howl, a duet of sorts. Shotty ‘sang’ with abandon, his joy palpable.
There is something sacred about the bond between a man and his dog. For a brief moment nothing else existed except the beautiful cacophony of their duet. Two friends sharing a moment of joy in the midst of whatever else life had to offer. A man and his dog is a beautiful thing.