Sunday, January 21, 2007
So, here I am, doing what any good meezer does, check out everything in the house to give approval. This is Mom's fiddle case. She plays Celtic fiddle, mainly Irish and Scottish stuff. I don't know what that is, but I like it. She often plays in the livin' room on this big, oversized chair, and she sits on the edge, so she clears the chair's arms, so her arms don't hit them. This give me lots of room to 1) chase my tail behind her (my favorite), 2) sit beside her and try to catch her arm as it moves this stick thing across these funny metal strings, 3) sit on top of the back of the chair and ajudicate (I think that means judge), or 4) sit quietly on her lap and listen to the wonderful sounds coming out of that funny shaped wooden box.
Mom loves playing her fiddle. But she love me more. The night she and Dad first picked me up, Mom had a rehearsal for a big Christmas show. But they had to go way out in the country to get me, and Mom was a good hour late! Dad took care of me that first night (why I love Dad, although I don't show it too well sometimes). Sometimes I think I'm part Manx (did you know they are Irish? Well, Isle of Man should be considered part of Ireland) or Scottish fold, since I like listen to Mom play. Once, when I was still really little, Dad took me down to this place were Mom was playing (called a pub, sounds like pup, but there were no woofies, and they drank this funny brown liquid stuff). He tucked me in his jacket, and when he sat down at the table with all Mom and Dad's friends, I poked my little head out and said hi. Of course, everyone said how cute I was!
Checking out Mom's fiddle case helped me forget what is coming up on Tuesday. My "operation". No food for 24 hours, how will I survive?