When we first encountered Max at the South Orange Animal Shelter, where he went by the unfortunate name of Timothy, we weren't sure what he was, other than the dog Frank fell head over heels for in about a split second. We did notice he was spry and friendly and very alert. His crate was very very clean and we were told he was very particular about keeping his space clean, unlike another pup named Moby who we won't discuss. Anyway, he also loved treats and would sit there alertly and give his paw, right or left, sit and lie down on command and then vigorously wag his tail once he was given a treat. All he clearly wanted to do was make one happy. As we filled out the paperwork we asked what breed(s) he was and they told us he was a mix...probably a bit of beagle which explains his adorable face
and his penchant for little bit of barking.
Apparently they also like to nap quite a bit
so OK, maybe so. The coloring is a little off though and so is the size, so it made a lot of sense when they said he was also a Treeing Walker Coonhound, which if you know this dog almost describes him to a tee from his grazing way of eating to being very active
and sticking to one toy
to taking a nap under the covers.
He even tries to climb up trees which is very cute and amusing until he starts eating bark and gagging but I guess he's going after the 'coon or in this case squirrel, squirrel, squirrel and trying to trap it for us to hunt. Like that's gonna happen. And then there are those times when instinct just takes over, the hackles go up from the back of his neck, down his back all the way to the tail and the nose hits the ground
and he pulls you around on the morning walk in relentless pursuit of something only he can smell because in the end
In a previous life, way before she was a wife and mother,
my mom was a concert pianist. From what I understand she was quite good. She taught my cousin how to play the piano when she was a little girl; the student surpassed the teacher and at the ripe old age of six she was a soloist on stage and making headlines all over Cuba. When I came along about 20 years later there was a grand piano in my house and she tried to teach me but unlike my cousin who was clearly a prodigy, I would have none of it. Regrets, I've had a few. I may have had absolutely no interest in playing it...well, I should say "playing it properly" since I was quite the expert on banging on the keys...I sure did enjoy listening. Her favorites were Chopin and Schubert and the great Cuban composer, Ernesto Lecuona. She stopped playing when we left Cuba and her piano was taken away. My classical music education however did not stop. My father
was an opera buff and a lover of classical music. One of the first things he bought after we arrived in this country was a record player then he slowly started to amass a quite impressive record collection of classical music and operas. I remember sitting on the couch which doubled as my brother's bed listening to this beautiful music with him as he would close his eyes and lean his head back to capture every note in all their glory. His favorite was probably Beethoven's pastoral and Rigoletto's La donna e mobile and Pagliacci but there really was no bias so I got to listen to quite an array of composers. When I started to take ballet lessons I did well because I could feel the music, I had been feeling it since day 1. At home we have a very eclectic music collection, back in the 80's Frank was a part-time DJ so there is dance music of all kinds, there's soul, funk, rock, Dean Martin, Bobby Darin, Tony Bennett, favorite movie soundtracks (my personal favorites, 2046 and Talk to Her) tons of jazz and a lot of classical including an entire Ernesto Lecuona collection which my mother bought me. So during this, the Christmas season
are there any more perfect compositions than Beethoven's Joy and Handel's Messiah? I think not. I have seen snippets of Messiah on and off throughout the years on PBS but have never seen it performed. So imagine my delight when I got a call from Frank on Monday which went something like this:
F: what are you doing on Thursday?
Me: Nothing that I know of, why?
F: Want to meet me at Lincoln Center at 7:30?
I don't have a bucket list...or at least I didn't before. Check.
It is cold here today, somewhere in the mid 20'sF. The forecast says snow later today and you can feel it in the air; it is overcast and the sky is just that hint of pinky gray that says snow is coming. Frank is upstairs in his office working on some big project and Max is accompanying him,
meanwhile I'm sitting here looking for kid toys and books for Christmas gifts while listening to Dexter Gordon and waiting for that first snow of the season. Happy Winter Sunday.
