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-----------------------------------------
RIP Maple ~~~ Black Water Flowing ~~
~~ ©2021-22 by (((Trevor Patrick)))
--{A Tribute to Guitar-Dogs, Everywhere}--
Silvery shimmers
'cross the wind-riffled surface --
(Black Water keeps on flowin')
-- though smaller
and more sedate
than the Mighty Mississip
-- somewhere in the
Hinterland Who's Who
--{{incoming earworm}}--
'twixt Cameron
and Kinmount --
Mister Slapper
Eager Beaver
across the river
is all-too-happy
to echo the palm-slaps
on the Indonesian wood
of my Kretek-smoking
Harimau Betina
of a
Darling Devotchka
(whose Russian name
predates my full knowledge
of her Indonesian
arboreal heritage --
but she says
she doesn't mind,
just as long
as I caress her
--just--
--right--)
She'll even forgive
some of my cheating on her
with my guitar mistress-on-the-side
of a parlour-sized
Takamine New Yorker
(who has not yet
revealed her name to me)
Although some of the local wildlife
are appreciative
for entirely different reasons,
such as the Pileated Woodpecker
drumming hungrily/threateningly
from a nearby tree --
And nearby crow
eyes
-- hungrily --
for an:
"It's a Sparkly!"
prize...
But as for Mutt-Doggo,
he's not bein'
quite as much
of a brat as usual,
and is already giving me
that: "But... But...
I thought you LOVED me!"
puppy-gaze
that says:
"Don't you dare miss
guitar treat-time!"
and if "the eyes"
aren't working on me
as quick as he'd like,
well, then there's
always increasingly-insistent
nose-nudges-becoming
nose- *baps*
or if he's feeling
really bratty,
he might even
do the risk vs. reward
Utilitarian Calculus
and try his luck
at a little nip
at the pants pockets
or the strumming-hand
with that defiant
airplane-ears,
cheeks-puffed
stance
that looks for all the world
like the canine version
of the stereotyped
Fifties-sitcom
bratty-little-brother,
pouting and sticking out his tongue
as he stamps his feet
in sense-of-entitlement
annoyance --
-- and I don't delude myself
that he gives an
--actual shit--
about the guitar...
"Hey, if I listen
to this hideous racket
for just a little
longer, I might just get
a rawhide
or a bully-stick
to chew on!"
...but two minutes later:
"Nah, I'm not gonna wait!
Why should I?
I flunked the
Stanford Marshmallow Test
after all!"
"Hey, ya big dummy,
playing with that hideous-sounding
hunk of wood, and making
those even MORE hideous
howls!
I think I'll just go ahead
and take that bully stick
and that rawhide right *NOW*
unless you want
you want me
to sing you the song of my people!"
"I think some nice,
loud barks sound better
then YOUR noise anyway!"
"Yeah, f**k THAT noise, old man...
And f**k YOUR noise!
Where's my treat?!?"
***
...And I have to stop the music
as I try and say the words
he can't understand,
or if he CAN, he chooses
to ignore...
And I try to sound
(oh-so-unconvincingly)
---FIRM---
as I tell him
in the suffering sigh
that nevertheless
creeps in:
"So, my spoiled, willful
bully-mutt
of a Puppers...
You think that
just because Maple
could be such
a good-good girl
of a guitar dog
for Acoustic Trench,
that I'd leave my
Takamine New Yorker
Mistress
out of her
jewellery box/playbox
in your tender mercies
and unsupervised?
You've got a long
lonely road to haul
my Puppers
before you ever reach
that decade-long,
slowly deepening
afternoon,
that when the sunset
finally comes upon you
it will be a
welcomed reward..."
(Who's a good Doggo?)
*nose-top-pat-pat-pat*
-----------------------------------------
RIP Maple ~~~ Black Water Flowing ~~
~~ ©2021-22 by (((Trevor Patrick)))
--{A Tribute to Guitar-Dogs, Everywhere}--
Silvery shimmers
'cross the wind-riffled surface --
(Black Water keeps on flowin')
-- though smaller
and more sedate
than the Mighty Mississip
-- somewhere in the
Hinterland Who's Who
--{{incoming earworm}}--
'twixt Cameron
and Kinmount --
Mister Slapper
Eager Beaver
across the river
is all-too-happy
to echo the palm-slaps
on the Indonesian wood
of my Kretek-smoking
Harimau Betina
of a
Darling Devotchka
(whose Russian name
predates my full knowledge
of her Indonesian
arboreal heritage --
but she says
she doesn't mind,
just as long
as I caress her
--just--
--right--)
She'll even forgive
some of my cheating on her
with my guitar mistress-on-the-side
of a parlour-sized
Takamine New Yorker
(who has not yet
revealed her name to me)
Although some of the local wildlife
are appreciative
for entirely different reasons,
such as the Pileated Woodpecker
drumming hungrily/threateningly
from a nearby tree --
And nearby crow
eyes
-- hungrily --
for an:
"It's a Sparkly!"
prize...
But as for Mutt-Doggo,
he's not bein'
quite as much
of a brat as usual,
and is already giving me
that: "But... But...
I thought you LOVED me!"
puppy-gaze
that says:
"Don't you dare miss
guitar treat-time!"
and if "the eyes"
aren't working on me
as quick as he'd like,
well, then there's
always increasingly-insistent
nose-nudges-becoming
nose- *baps*
or if he's feeling
really bratty,
he might even
do the risk vs. reward
Utilitarian Calculus
and try his luck
at a little nip
at the pants pockets
or the strumming-hand
with that defiant
airplane-ears,
cheeks-puffed
stance
that looks for all the world
like the canine version
of the stereotyped
Fifties-sitcom
bratty-little-brother,
pouting and sticking out his tongue
as he stamps his feet
in sense-of-entitlement
annoyance --
-- and I don't delude myself
that he gives an
--actual shit--
about the guitar...
"Hey, if I listen
to this hideous racket
for just a little
longer, I might just get
a rawhide
or a bully-stick
to chew on!"
...but two minutes later:
"Nah, I'm not gonna wait!
Why should I?
I flunked the
Stanford Marshmallow Test
after all!"
"Hey, ya big dummy,
playing with that hideous-sounding
hunk of wood, and making
those even MORE hideous
howls!
I think I'll just go ahead
and take that bully stick
and that rawhide right *NOW*
unless you want
you want me
to sing you the song of my people!"
"I think some nice,
loud barks sound better
then YOUR noise anyway!"
"Yeah, f**k THAT noise, old man...
And f**k YOUR noise!
Where's my treat?!?"
***
...And I have to stop the music
as I try and say the words
he can't understand,
or if he CAN, he chooses
to ignore...
And I try to sound
(oh-so-unconvincingly)
---FIRM---
as I tell him
in the suffering sigh
that nevertheless
creeps in:
"So, my spoiled, willful
bully-mutt
of a Puppers...
You think that
just because Maple
could be such
a good-good girl
of a guitar dog
for Acoustic Trench,
that I'd leave my
Takamine New Yorker
Mistress
out of her
jewellery box/playbox
in your tender mercies
and unsupervised?
You've got a long
lonely road to haul
my Puppers
before you ever reach
that decade-long,
slowly deepening
afternoon,
that when the sunset
finally comes upon you
it will be a
welcomed reward..."
(Who's a good Doggo?)
*nose-top-pat-pat-pat*
~~ RIP Maple ~~ / ~~ Black Water Flowing ~~
{TL;DR} warning! Proceed at your own risk!
This piece celebrates the unique phenomenon of the "guitar dog".
I have a bit of a soft-spot for animals that clearly enjoy music, whether it's Christopher Ameruoso (author, musician and film director -- 2008 version of "Silent Night, Bloody Night") playing music for the various critters on his ranch, including Hazel the donkey, who will lean and snuggle against him as he plays guitar and sings to her (or plays one of his array of unique home-made instruments, such as his oil can and/or cigar box guitars.
Or, perhaps, country artist Billy Currington, who covered Scotty Emerick and Harley Allen's song:"Love Me Like My Dog" and famously brings his male chocolate lab Paco on stage to wander around and play with chew toys, which a couple of the roadies toss around for him as Currington and his band perform their music. In a number of videos online it is clear that Paco is having a grand old time as he wanders around the stage, also sometimes sticking his nose out over the edge of the stage, and wagging his tail to get nose-pats from the folks in the front row. Most people commenting on the video (thankfully) can see how much Paco is clearly enjoying himself on stage, soliciting pats, treats and toys from Billy, himself, the other members of his band, the roadies, and also with folks in the front row.
Like I said, most people comment on this, and just how adorable it all is, but the internet being the internet, most of the negative comments revolve around it being somehow "cruel" to have Paco on stage and to "stress" his sensitive Canine hearing, and/or the other "cruelty" involved in the fact that Paco still quite clearly has all his original male parts...
Then, there's also Drew Cole, who is (currently) a contestant on the TV Show: "The Voice", whose earliest, aspiring-guitarist-and-singer (and very much pre-fame) YouTube videos featured his Golden Retriever bitch head-bopping and doggie-smiling along to his guitar playing, and then instantly losing her 'doggie-smile' and almost appearing to frown, when Drew would stop playing, but promptly looking happy all over again, as soon as he would resume playing.
Last, but certainly not least is Maple the Guitar-Dog (and her lifelong friend Cherry), who live with YouTube guitarist AcousticTrench. Maple was, by far, the most chill and happy participant in her Master's music, snuggling up to him as he would play in some videos, and in others, even seeming to 'participate' in the music by 'playing' a bass drum (in reality, likely Maple was just laying there completely chill and unperturbed (and indeed, seeming to be enjoying herself), with a front paw resting on the bass drum's pedal as the pedal was operated automatically. Or, as some have suggested, those of us, who would dare suspect that such a good-good girl of a guitar doggo like Maple isn't actually 'playing' that bass drum -- that such a smart, good-good girl (yes you are!) like Maple couldn't learn something so simple as pushing that pedal her very own self with her very own golden-furred little paw... Well, you just don't have faith in a good doggo!
So, OK...
Lest I offend anyone, where no offence is intended, I suppose I could be willing to concede that maybe Maple could actually play bass drum on her own. Maybe. :P
This piece took well over a year to complete, as I sat on the unfinished version for quite a while, simply because I felt it lacked some essential ingredient that would make it pop, but I wasn't sure what that would be. Disastrous past attempts at trying to force things had long taught me that no piece will mature before its time, and when the time comes (in a couple of cases sometimes years and years later), the words have this way of letting me know it's time to pick them up again.
In this case, it was towards the end of a short-term winter rental I was living in on the Burnt River, north of Lindsay, Ontario, when spring had finally, reluctantly arrived, and I was in my last few days before the end of the lease. When it got warm enough that I could practice guitar outside for an hour or two, without my hands turning too stiff and blue to keep playing, I liked to stand on the back deck, and look out over that dark, ash-stained water, and subject the birds and local wildlife to my guitar and vocal practice.
One day, looking out over that black water, I found myself thinking of that old Doobie Brothers song from 1975 with the same title (after all, how could I not?), and deciding to try and teach myself the fingerpicking riff for it, just because it's so undeniably catchy with that unique double drop-D tuning that Patrick Simmons used for it.
So, even though the Burnt river is but a mere trickle, compared to the Mighty Mississippi that Simmons wrote the original song about, it was inspiring, nonetheless.
And since Doggo was out there with me, and was (somewhat) behaving, I suddenly found myself thinking of that unfinished tribute to Maple the Guitar Dog that was still sitting in the fragments pile, and some new words started to come to me, even as my fingers were trying to find the appropriate chords for them (I'm still working on the music), and I was also stopping every few moments, to jot down some words as they came to me.
Another reason why this took so long to complete was that I, too was lucky enough to have had a guitar dog grace my life for a few years, namely my male border collie x labrador cross that crossed the Rainbow Bridge at the age of 14 in February of 2021. Marley was a truly unique and gentle soul, who (especially as he got older and more arthritic), often liked to lie at my feet as I practiced guitar, and who even seemed to have his favourites that I would play. The one that he seemed to like the most was: "Closer to Home/I'm Your Captain" by Grand Funk Railroad. There was often a... look... he would give me, especially as I sang the final part of the song: "I'm getting closer to my home...", like he knew his time was becoming more and more limited. The day I took him to the vet for the inevitable, I cradled his head in my lap as he was given that final needle, and eventually grew still... And I softly sang those words to him.
So, just like watching that last video on Acoustic Trench's page, where he says goodbye to Maple by playing her a fingerstyle version of Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World", I had to be in just the right frame of mind to be able to handle this in a headspace of respectful, (even if wistful) whimsy, rather than melting into a truly 'ugly-cry'.
I have adopted a new dog since Marley passed: namely an American Bulldog/Doberman cross named Milo, who is spoiled, bratty and entitled, and it's been quite a struggle to get him to cooperate and behave long enough to allow me a proper-length daily guitar practice, but slowly but surely, he is getting better...
(original rough-thoughts writeup continues below)
The only way I could properly eulogise a truly "who's a good girl?" of a darling Puppers like Maple The Guitar Dog from the YouTube page "Acoustic Trench", was to actually pick up my own guitar, and write down the thoughts that came to me during practice, my right hand switching between plectrum and pen as inspiration comes and goes.
(Warning to all the dudebros out there, the last video on that page, which features Maple will give you the worst ugly-cry that you've had since the first time you saw the original version of "Brian's Song"...)
So, since I have recently adopted an utterly pre-spoiled little indulged prince of a rambunctious doberman/am bulldog bully-mutt pup that can (and will) cry like a beagle to try and get what he wants... cry like a beagle, til he's free... (or at least finds the solution!) I am involved in a daily struggle to somehow keep him occupied long enough to allow me to practice guitar.
This piece celebrates the unique phenomenon of the "guitar dog".
I have a bit of a soft-spot for animals that clearly enjoy music, whether it's Christopher Ameruoso (author, musician and film director -- 2008 version of "Silent Night, Bloody Night") playing music for the various critters on his ranch, including Hazel the donkey, who will lean and snuggle against him as he plays guitar and sings to her (or plays one of his array of unique home-made instruments, such as his oil can and/or cigar box guitars.
Or, perhaps, country artist Billy Currington, who covered Scotty Emerick and Harley Allen's song:"Love Me Like My Dog" and famously brings his male chocolate lab Paco on stage to wander around and play with chew toys, which a couple of the roadies toss around for him as Currington and his band perform their music. In a number of videos online it is clear that Paco is having a grand old time as he wanders around the stage, also sometimes sticking his nose out over the edge of the stage, and wagging his tail to get nose-pats from the folks in the front row. Most people commenting on the video (thankfully) can see how much Paco is clearly enjoying himself on stage, soliciting pats, treats and toys from Billy, himself, the other members of his band, the roadies, and also with folks in the front row.
Like I said, most people comment on this, and just how adorable it all is, but the internet being the internet, most of the negative comments revolve around it being somehow "cruel" to have Paco on stage and to "stress" his sensitive Canine hearing, and/or the other "cruelty" involved in the fact that Paco still quite clearly has all his original male parts...
Then, there's also Drew Cole, who is (currently) a contestant on the TV Show: "The Voice", whose earliest, aspiring-guitarist-and-singer (and very much pre-fame) YouTube videos featured his Golden Retriever bitch head-bopping and doggie-smiling along to his guitar playing, and then instantly losing her 'doggie-smile' and almost appearing to frown, when Drew would stop playing, but promptly looking happy all over again, as soon as he would resume playing.
Last, but certainly not least is Maple the Guitar-Dog (and her lifelong friend Cherry), who live with YouTube guitarist AcousticTrench. Maple was, by far, the most chill and happy participant in her Master's music, snuggling up to him as he would play in some videos, and in others, even seeming to 'participate' in the music by 'playing' a bass drum (in reality, likely Maple was just laying there completely chill and unperturbed (and indeed, seeming to be enjoying herself), with a front paw resting on the bass drum's pedal as the pedal was operated automatically. Or, as some have suggested, those of us, who would dare suspect that such a good-good girl of a guitar doggo like Maple isn't actually 'playing' that bass drum -- that such a smart, good-good girl (yes you are!) like Maple couldn't learn something so simple as pushing that pedal her very own self with her very own golden-furred little paw... Well, you just don't have faith in a good doggo!
So, OK...
Lest I offend anyone, where no offence is intended, I suppose I could be willing to concede that maybe Maple could actually play bass drum on her own. Maybe. :P
This piece took well over a year to complete, as I sat on the unfinished version for quite a while, simply because I felt it lacked some essential ingredient that would make it pop, but I wasn't sure what that would be. Disastrous past attempts at trying to force things had long taught me that no piece will mature before its time, and when the time comes (in a couple of cases sometimes years and years later), the words have this way of letting me know it's time to pick them up again.
In this case, it was towards the end of a short-term winter rental I was living in on the Burnt River, north of Lindsay, Ontario, when spring had finally, reluctantly arrived, and I was in my last few days before the end of the lease. When it got warm enough that I could practice guitar outside for an hour or two, without my hands turning too stiff and blue to keep playing, I liked to stand on the back deck, and look out over that dark, ash-stained water, and subject the birds and local wildlife to my guitar and vocal practice.
One day, looking out over that black water, I found myself thinking of that old Doobie Brothers song from 1975 with the same title (after all, how could I not?), and deciding to try and teach myself the fingerpicking riff for it, just because it's so undeniably catchy with that unique double drop-D tuning that Patrick Simmons used for it.
So, even though the Burnt river is but a mere trickle, compared to the Mighty Mississippi that Simmons wrote the original song about, it was inspiring, nonetheless.
And since Doggo was out there with me, and was (somewhat) behaving, I suddenly found myself thinking of that unfinished tribute to Maple the Guitar Dog that was still sitting in the fragments pile, and some new words started to come to me, even as my fingers were trying to find the appropriate chords for them (I'm still working on the music), and I was also stopping every few moments, to jot down some words as they came to me.
Another reason why this took so long to complete was that I, too was lucky enough to have had a guitar dog grace my life for a few years, namely my male border collie x labrador cross that crossed the Rainbow Bridge at the age of 14 in February of 2021. Marley was a truly unique and gentle soul, who (especially as he got older and more arthritic), often liked to lie at my feet as I practiced guitar, and who even seemed to have his favourites that I would play. The one that he seemed to like the most was: "Closer to Home/I'm Your Captain" by Grand Funk Railroad. There was often a... look... he would give me, especially as I sang the final part of the song: "I'm getting closer to my home...", like he knew his time was becoming more and more limited. The day I took him to the vet for the inevitable, I cradled his head in my lap as he was given that final needle, and eventually grew still... And I softly sang those words to him.
So, just like watching that last video on Acoustic Trench's page, where he says goodbye to Maple by playing her a fingerstyle version of Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World", I had to be in just the right frame of mind to be able to handle this in a headspace of respectful, (even if wistful) whimsy, rather than melting into a truly 'ugly-cry'.
I have adopted a new dog since Marley passed: namely an American Bulldog/Doberman cross named Milo, who is spoiled, bratty and entitled, and it's been quite a struggle to get him to cooperate and behave long enough to allow me a proper-length daily guitar practice, but slowly but surely, he is getting better...
(original rough-thoughts writeup continues below)
The only way I could properly eulogise a truly "who's a good girl?" of a darling Puppers like Maple The Guitar Dog from the YouTube page "Acoustic Trench", was to actually pick up my own guitar, and write down the thoughts that came to me during practice, my right hand switching between plectrum and pen as inspiration comes and goes.
(Warning to all the dudebros out there, the last video on that page, which features Maple will give you the worst ugly-cry that you've had since the first time you saw the original version of "Brian's Song"...)
So, since I have recently adopted an utterly pre-spoiled little indulged prince of a rambunctious doberman/am bulldog bully-mutt pup that can (and will) cry like a beagle to try and get what he wants... cry like a beagle, til he's free... (or at least finds the solution!) I am involved in a daily struggle to somehow keep him occupied long enough to allow me to practice guitar.
Category Poetry / Animal related (non-anthro)
Species Dog (Other)
Gender Female
Size 50 x 50px
what a wonderful eulogy all the way around... I don't know what I would do without a dog(s) in my life...
V.
V.
Thank you.
In the end, it turned out a great deal rougher and far less polished than I had intended, but when I think of the likewise rough and unpolished nature of my current dog, I guess it fits. :P
In the end, it turned out a great deal rougher and far less polished than I had intended, but when I think of the likewise rough and unpolished nature of my current dog, I guess it fits. :P
He’ll smooth down over time, and you know this. You’ll then fit together like a good set of gears.
V.
V.
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