FJohnSharp wrote:I love my pets. They do not complain when I play the whistle.
My dog comes running when I'm in the low register on it...as soon as I get up about G or A, she runs away...It's cute...this constant back and forth..."low stuff...ooo what's that sound? HIGH! RUN AWAY!!! Low stuff...ooo what's that sound? HIGH! RUN AWAY!!!" And on and on she goes...hehe
~Crysania
<i>~`~"I have nothing to say and I'm saying it." <blockquote>-- John Cage~`~</blockquote></i>
FJohnSharp wrote:I love my pets. They do not complain when I play the whistle.
My dog comes running when I'm in the low register on it...as soon as I get up about G or A, she runs away...It's cute...this constant back and forth..."low stuff...ooo what's that sound? HIGH! RUN AWAY!!! Low stuff...ooo what's that sound? HIGH! RUN AWAY!!!" And on and on she goes...hehe
There's a joke in there somewhere, isn't there? hmmm...
I think I was playing Cooley's when she running...she kinda backed up at the short spots that got to G or above. And then I played Silver Spear...she ran away in the beginning of the B section and crept back when I got back to the A. It was really cute. If only I could take pictures and play whistle at the same time! (now that would be a rare talent, eh?)
~Crysania
<i>~`~"I have nothing to say and I'm saying it." <blockquote>-- John Cage~`~</blockquote></i>
Until not too long ago we had two Tonks, but the female died of cancer.
The male, however, is the most sociable of beasts. When I trim his claws, front and back, he just lays on his back on my lap with his feet up in the air! Visitors are always amazed. My youngest son used to clear the dinner table, walking around with the Tonk draped around his neck like a fur piece. Unbelievable.
One of my 2 dogs recognises 'The Galtee Hunt', whether or not it is played on a whistle or sung. Unfortunately, both have very LOUD opinions on Susato whistles, so can only practice on these before church....
Tell us something.: I became interested in the beauty and versatility of Irish whistles and music over 20 years ago when I first found the Chiff boards. Yes, I do have WHOA, and I love my whistles. :)
After having cats for many years growing up, I've been catless for the last 10 or so...but a beautiful long-haired orange tabby showed up nearly a month ago and spent the night huddled in our basement room windowell. We had to take her to the animal shelter (required by law here, if you find a stray) for the requisite three days but then went back and adopted her. We've named her "Penny" because of her coat color.
She's so sweet and playful and cuddly but she does have one really odd thing, that I have never seen a cat do before: she nurses on herself! Even after being spayed at the shelter, she still does it...only when she's really happy and purring and curled up in your lap. The vet said some cats do it to comfort themselves. If that's the case I don't know why she only does it when she's the happiest...maybe she had a hard childhood or something!
Oh yes, and we also gave her a bath last night. I've never given a cat a bath before. She did not like it but she didn't scratch us or bite us...and she loved sitting on my lap for hours afterward getting dried off. There was quite a dark ring around the bathtub, though! I doubt she's ever had a bath before.
Our cat likes those triangle Dairylea cheese spread portions.
She has recently developed a dislike of the word "tiger". If we say it she will glare at the offending speaker and then walk off in disgust.
She also waits outside the bathroom while it is in use, and then walks in when the occupant leaves, as if to inspect the room.
Cats are mad.
And whether the blood be highland, lowland or no.
And whether the skin be black or white as the snow.
Of kith and of kin we are one, be it right, be it wrong.
As long as our hearts beat true to the lilt of a song.
DAY 752 - My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.
DAY 761 - Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair...must try this on their bed.
DAY 762 - Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep depriving, incessant pleas for food at ungodly hours of the night.
DAY 765 - Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body, in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was ...Hmmm. Not working according to plan ......
DAY 768 - I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "Shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.
DAY 771 - There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "Beer." More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
DAY 774 - I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The Bird on the other hand has got to be an informant. He has mastered their frightful tongue (something akin to mole speak) and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time.
EXCERPTS FROM A DOG'S DIARY
Day number 180
8:00 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
9:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
9:40 am - OH BOY! A WALK! MY FAVORITE!
10:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
11:30 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
12:00 noon - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
1:00 pm - OH BOY! THE YARD! MY FAVORITE!
4:00 pm - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
5:00 PM - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
5:30 PM - OH BOY! MOM! MY FAVORITE!
Day number 181
8:00 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
9:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
9:40 am - OH BOY! A WALK! MY FAVORITE!
10:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
11:30 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
12:00 noon - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
1:00 pm - OH BOY! THE YARD! MY FAVORITE!
4:00 pm - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
5:00 PM - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
5:30 PM - OH BOY! MOM! MY FAVORITE
"It might be a bit better to tune to one of my fiddle's open strings, like A, rather than asking me for an F#." - Martin Milner
buddhu wrote:She has recently developed a dislike of the word "tiger". If we say it she will glare at the offending speaker and then walk off in disgust.
This is too weird. Yours ain't the only one! Mine would do the very same when I was trying to name her. What's up with that? Then one day I was talking gibberish at her, you know, cute noises and all, and the sound "mubu" came out. Immediately she fell on her back and started writhing luxuriantly, looking very pleased. Suspecting something, I said, "mubu", again, and the same result. I confirmed this thoughout the day. "Mubu." *writhe* "Mubu." *writhe*.....I say to other people that she told me what her name was.
Cats are mad.
Completely bonkers. But what does one say about a fellow who'd utter gibberish to a cat?
I had a boxer I'm convinced believed he controlled us with this thoughts. Each evening he would sit and stare intently at me until I ask him, "Ya wanna go feed the horse?"
We were having a party and someone, making a reference about Star Wars said, "Heed the force, Luke, heed the force." To their surprise, the 70 pound dog began leaping in the air right in front of them, but they couldn't figure out why he was reacting to "heed the force." It only took me a second to associate the similar sounds, but we had some fun with it.
Before Morwenna, our cat, the last pet I had was a collie/alsation cross called Roobarb. She was delightful dog: calm, cheerful and obedient... however she would only obey commands that included "please".
"Sit" wouldn't work. "Roobarb, would you sit down, please?" met with prompt compliance. No way can a sentence like that be delivered in a commanding tone. She knew the words, I totally know it.
And whether the blood be highland, lowland or no.
And whether the skin be black or white as the snow.
Of kith and of kin we are one, be it right, be it wrong.
As long as our hearts beat true to the lilt of a song.
Exercise program for an overweight cat: (really. we did this.)
Me plus 2 daughters in a room with fat cat. Each of us(humans) has a D whistle. We take turns playing high trills, causing fat cat to run from whistler who just played to whistler currently playing. Repeat until whistlers have headaches.
"It might be a bit better to tune to one of my fiddle's open strings, like A, rather than asking me for an F#." - Martin Milner
