A Dog of Tastes

Whenever I play the piano, our dog leaves the room.  I don’t blame Angus, our black lab.  My playing is atrocious, but it exercises my fingers and brain.  I also play the alto recorder, having returned to it after my sister decided we should get together on weekends to practice.  She has a soprano recorder.  At our first effort, Angus approached, perked up his ears as much as a lab can, and sat watching.

So I’ve added recorder practice after I finish with the piano.  I have only to blow the first note, and Angus races into the room, sometimes from the other side of the house.  The last time I played the piano, he entered before I finished because he knew my next move would be to play the recorder.

What is it about the instrument’s tone that so fascinates him?  Does it resemble a bird’s voice?  I think so.  Later I played some bird calls from the National Wildlife Federation, and he sat up, ears perked.  Perhaps when he’s outdoors, lying in the sun, he’s enjoying the bird calls.  I don’t blame him at all.


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