Perhaps because I've been listening to old jazz standards, I've added to our roster of songs, all of which are about the dogs. There are, of course, the songs that are simply the dogs' names sung to the tunes of pop songs from the 60s. One of our perennial favorites is a reworking of "Phenomenon," which I and many of my peers first heard sung by Muppets on Sesame Street. You can guess how it goes: "ARomadog—babeedabeedoo. ARomadog—babeedeedeet." But we also make up songs on the spur of the moment. The latest is one I sing in a plaintive wail to Muzzy when she gets too up-close-and-personal at the dinner table. It kind of sounds like the beginning of "My Darling Clementine," and it goes like this:
Don't put your nose on my glass, please.
Oh, don't put your nose on my glass.
I don't want your nose on my glass, dear,
So don't put your nose on my glass.
Listening to a CD of Anita O'Day singing "Sweet Georgia Brown" and "Tea for Two" (in quarter time) has inspired a new set of tunes. There's one that goes "Roma baby, she likes to [fill in the blank.]" I like to fill in the blank with the obvious verbs—eat, poop, beg, sleep, fart, pee, chew, lick her woo—partly because some are naughty, but mostly because they are easily rhymed. My favorite part is the instrumental interlude during which I imagine a trio of Brylcreemed male doot-doot singers crooning while I do a little soft shoe routine (best done in socks on the kitchen tiles), followed by the big finish: "Romadog!"
The dogs, as you can imagine, are unmoved by my musical tributes. They know that there's no one waiting behind the curtain with a big hook to pull me off the stage, so they just wait through all the bad acts until their favorite shows up—Dog Park.