Works For Me

Along the canals, Mimi the Mockingbird serenaded dogs and their walkers with popular tunes from the '40s and '50s. Palmetto palms swayed to the rhythm of her songs. Azaleas primped in the early morning sunlight to be ready for next week's festival celebrating their beauty. The ducks in the lagoons, well honestly, the ducks were simply goofing off, shamelessly duck-like.

A recent rain had left the air smelling of the sweet perfume of early summer, and the fence around our little Eden served as a backdrop for the soothing coos of mourning doves. It was that gentle hour, loved by all, nestled between dawn and mid-morning. A refreshing pause to allow Nature to get her second shot of caffeine before the big push into the afternoon.

Wyatt, the poodle-ish dog next door, was alternately running out into the backyard where he would turn to the house and begin barking as though calling someone to come out and play. With that done, he would run back into the house, where he was silent for several seconds, no doubt getting his ears scratched before running back outside to do it all over again. It usually works for him. It doesn't work for me when I want to get Ms. Wonder's attention.

Wyatt repeated the sequence several times before Princess Amy noticed him. "There's a household that might benefit from living with cats," she said as if cats weren't just little feudal lords using the art of strategic indifference to get what they want. 

"Amy, don't you like dogs?" I asked and I instantly regretted joining her in conversation so early in the day.

"Dogs, I like," she said. "I have two of my own. It's people who own dogs that I have a problem with."

"You don't have dogs," I said emphatically although I realized I should have stayed quiet. I have trouble stopping once I start.

"Chihuahuas," she said. "Butch and Killer."

"Fitting," I said imagining Amy strolling through the park with two pint-sized swaggers.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Figure it out," I said because I wasn't up for any smash-mouth from her on such a beautiful morning. I'd had enough and I wasn't going to take it anymore. (I say that often and I don't know if it makes a difference but I know that it makes me feel better when I say it.) It's a personal mantra--less 'OM' and more 'Oh, come on.'

Inspired by Wyatt's persistence, I pulled out my phone and opened the SiriusXM app to play easy-listening hits from the 1980s. It's my version of Wyatt's routine--my way to bring someone out to play with me or more often to get Princess Amy into a playful mood. It's the next best thing to living with cats.

When I hear music it changes my mood. Don't ask me why. I can't explain it and I no longer look for answers to life's mysteries. I've become like the Tin Man--not equipped to find answers, just searching for a heart to feel the music instead of analyzing it. It works for me, and that's all I need.

Michael Jackson's singing Human Nature fills my heart with that same peaceful feeling I find in our backyard Eden. It's like magic.  As Shakespeare said, "Don't ask why; just do it and let it be." Not a direct quote, but in my defense, the Bard never had to deal with two chihuahuas that collect insurance money from local canines.