by D. C. Haddock
Today as I was sitting on the floor putting on my tennis shoes, about to hop onto the stationary bike, my dog walked into my room while I was singing quietly to myself (one of my absolute favorite songs, might I add- a beautiful rendition of Autumn Leaves by Eva Cassidy). She plopped belly-down, froggy-style perpendicular to me and laid her head on my knee and just stared at me, like she was listening and actually enjoying it. It doesn’t sound so strange now that I write it, but seriously, she seemed so cognizant and aware of the melody that I literally had to stop just to see what she did, in which case she removed her head from my knee and jumped onto the bed to look out the window. She has moments where she seems pretty dim (I’ve witnessed her run into many a wall and fall for the old you-think-I-threw-the-ball-but-I-really-didn’t! routine) but for the most part, she serves as a fairly adept and faithful companion. Sometimes when she’s laying facing away from me and parallel to my legs on the couch, she’ll lift her head and look at me backwards really expectantly for no apparent reason (and sorry, Shaun of the Dead was WRONG when he said that dogs can’t look up) and just the other day she was staring out the glass door and she looked just so sad that I completely stopped whatever assignment I was working on at the time and got out the leash.
Anyway, I’m not sure what the point of all that was. I just thought it was interesting. Obviously, animals don’t find music as enjoyable as humans (whenever I try to move her paws in time to the music, she just gets feisty) but the little incident today tells me it has some sort of effect on them. Maybe it’s soothing? I don’t know.