Cutting the Rug
Dancing. Yes, that odd two-legged behavior that leaves us on four legs mystified. I’m told rhythm is the most important aspect to the movements of limbs and torso, if done successfully.
I’ve been trying to figure out where rhythm applies in my life. I do have my stomp dance, but I’m not sure I do it rhythmically. I suppose our tail-wagging is a form of rhythm, and our running at a full gallop might qualify, but we don’t rely on music, (another mystery to dogs).
Dad says that dancing is the sculpting of the air around the dancer. He said that when he realized that, it changed how he looked at dancing. It’s probably a good thing that he looks at dancing rather than participating. More on that later.
Now our Mom, she is a dancer. When she breaks out to a song, Keira and I get excited and try to figure out how to participate. When our Mom dances, it feels like play to us. I usually come running and stand on my hind legs and have her catch my front paws. She thinks I want to dance with her from that position, but I’m actually trying to get her down to our level and play from that angle.
Keira in her excitement will try to come in for the block, (to keep me from Mom), or throw herself on the floor and do her own “full-size-Golden-ecstatic-wiggle” on the carpet. When Mom dances, it’s a happy event that lights up the house. Hazel, my other pack-sister usually just watches from the couch. I think she enjoys it, but stays aloof for some reason, (more on that later).
The integral part for two-leggeds is of course, the music. Mom seems to prefer the bouncy fast songs, and Dad, well, we’re not exactly sure what his favorite kind of music is as he always pulls out something we haven’t heard before. Hazel has a vast experience with Dad’s taste in music. She got to hear endless hours of it in the big truck when they were on the road.
Hazel told me that when they were fostering puppies for service dogs, Dad had to figured out what music would calm them down and induce a good, long, puppy nap. For Lucy, it was the Celtic stylings of Dougie MacLean. When Butter came along, it took Dad a bit to find her music. Of all things it was Reggae music that “soothed the savage (and very busy) breast” and sent her off to dreamland.
For Sora, she had varied taste. I was here for her, and I remember she seemed to prefer some of Dad’s music that doesn’t sit with some folks. So there was a lot of “mixes” and Spotify, (will they ever get around to making Barkify?).
So I brought all this up because “dancing” came up the other day as the center of slight incident we had the other morning. Mom went out on errands and Dad had “galley” duty and decided to cue up some vintage Shawn Phillips to brighten up the chores.
When the song “The Only Logical Conclusion/Get Up off Your A** and Dance” came up, so did the volume, and so did the hands covered in long rubber gloves as they rose into the air. What followed was a scene I cannot unsee. Dad began moving in a very strange way, not like Mom at all. Hazel, previously asleep at her post on the couch was up on her feet and shot a concerned whine in my direction. Keira was astride me and was wagging so hard it pulled her hind quarters from side to side. Dad was completely oblivious to us and started increasing the speed of his wriggling. Hazel shouted with a bark to me that she was going to the bathroom laundry basket to get a sock and when she came back, I was to take Dad out at the knees and keep him busy on the ground. I shot back with a question as to the purpose of the sock and why on this green earth would I ever have to take Dad out at the knees.
What followed was a heated argument between Hazel and Keira. Hazel was convinced that Dad was having a “session” and might swallow his teeth. Keira jumped in to say it was “seizure”, not “session”, and the sock would be useless because of the “Dogumentary”.
This went on for some minutes until I had to tell them to both shut up. I walked into the kitchen, (still at a safe distance), and calmly sniffed at the commotion unfolding before me. I neither sensed anxiety, or distress.
Keira barked out that Dad might be doing the Hokey Pokey, but Hazel was more of the opinion it was the Herky Jerky and paddled off to get a sock.
Dad continued on while I turned my head to Keira. I asked her about this “Dogumentary” she mentioned.
“American Bandstand, we watched a Dogumentary about a show with music and people that can dance like Mom.”
“So, you’re saying Dad is imitating what you saw last night.”
“Well, sort of, he’s appears to be trying to do very modified version of the Alligator right now, I think…oh wait, now it’s the Bat-tusi, kind of.”
Hazel appeared with a fluze full of sock. I turned back and sniffed at Dad one more time and came to the conclusion that this was just an odd, (very odd), form of wagging and that we would all be OK.
Dad’s center of gravity seem to be giving him some resistance and eventually seemed to be the cause of the most spastic of displays. For a second there, I wondered if Hazel’s sock would be needed.
Dad, suddenly aware of our presence immediately stopped the last of the tremors and his eyes keyed into the lone sock in the middle of the carpet. Hazel, back on the couch, did her best, (and succeeded), to appear “innocent as the day is long”. This caused Dad to look down at Keira and begin his lecture and walking Keira down the hall with the purloined sock in his hand to show her where they’re supposed to go and to not take things out of the laundry basket and…to leave shoes alone…blah, blah, blah.
I laid back down on the carpet waiting for their return and thanked Providence that everything was back to normal. For now.
~Tucker Oso
