“How would you like to go along?” The Geezer forgot to tell me where. I’m used to it.
“Go where?” I replied.
“Me and Mrs. G and the Pleasantons are going to Okeechobee for some real Bluegrass. Do you want to go?”
I did some quick calculations. Okeechobee is a two-and-a-half hour car ride. That means a full bladder. No cat to chase around the house. Boring! For what? Blue grass? Hey, I’ve Poo’d and Pee’d on my share of grass and believe me…it’s green, not blue. As polite as I could be under the circumstance, I said, “I think I’ll pass, Geezer.”
“Shug is going.”
Now, that changed things! Shug is a sister Golden Retriever. We love to get together and exchange information about how superior we are to all those other canine breeds and discuss the latest intellectual flatulence our poor, inferior humans have exhibited. Still, I hesitated.
“I’d like you to try it out. See how you like it.” He was doing his feeble best.
“Ummmmm,” I shook my head, “I don’t think so.” I mean grass is grass. You squat, you drop, that’s the whole enchilada.
“We’ll be stopping for some barbeque. I’m sure there’ll be plenty left for you.” The Geezer felt he needed more incentives…to talk my language.
He did! He did! Food! “I think I can try out some blue grass. I’ve seen it on TV and it doesn’t look that bad.”
“You’ve seen it on TV? When? I don’t remember…”
I cut the old boy off. He gets verbose at the drop of a Milkbone. “Geezer don’t you remember? We watched a football game played at Boise State.”
“It isn’t that kind of blue grass,” he said. The Geezer’s grin was so wide I thought the corners of his mouth might swallow his ears. He can be a smug old bug. “It’s music; Bluegrass music. Like Bill Monroe, Ray Stanley, Earl Scruggs and Lester Flatt, Alison Krauss, Ricky Skaggs, and Keith Bass.”
I recognized most of the names, but didn’t know any of them personally or even what type dog owned them. “Musicians? Ahhhhh, refresh my memory. Is it something you play on the hi fi?”
“Why, I play it all the time. It’s that paw tapping, tail swishing music. Banjos, guitars, mandolins, fiddles, basses, and some real down home singing.”
I was making the connection. “Oh! You mean like, Foggy Mountain Breakdown, Fox on the Run, and the Orange Blossom Special?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
I gave it an enthusiastic three woof endorsement and said, “Let’s load!”
The band we went to see is called the Florida Bluegrass Express. They are terrific. The picture is that group.
I’ll save the story of Shug’s and my trip together for another time. It would make the tale too long. Tale instead of tail, get it? I feel compelled to point this out for I’m sure the majority of readers will probably be human.
Anyway, WOW, it was GREAT!! My paw was a tappin’ and my tail was a swingin’ all night long! And the humans…they were dancin’ in the isles!! It was a sight to see. All the pickin’ and grinnin’ and singin”…It was a real “Hootin’ Hoe Down,” as the Geezer called it. Those musicians playing the instruments moved their fingers so fast it was amazing. It made me want to howl. And……I did. But just once. I realized I was off-key. I think I finally found something humans can do better than dogs. My paws just won’t shape those chords!
When they finished, I said, “Gosh, I wish it would never end.”
The Geezer grinned. “I’m glad you feel that way. We’re going to a festival, camp out for a whole weekend, and listen to these folks and a lot more play Bluegrass the whole time.”
I simply said, “WOOFEEEEEEEEE!!!!”