Saturday, April 24, 2010
Jack's eyes and a soft rain in april
In the continuing saga of Jack and his recouperation from this week's oil slick disaster, things are slowly improving for the boy. Both food and water must be doled out to him in very tiny rations lest I want to view it again too soon. He did have a spot of fever last night but slept well and is brighter and seems more comfortable with his still ballooned belly. It is a heck of a weight loss program the boy is on, no food since Monday's 1/2 gal of oil until yesterday's very small amount of canned chow, very small. He does feel a bit lighter when I pick him up and I know he is hungry, by jove, when he hears me do anything in the kitchen, ears perked, eyes so hopeful for the tiniest of morsals to drop to be scarfed away. Time is his friend tho and time must pass before another gorge will be tolerated by his still sore and damaged gastornomical system.
Yesterday when I went to pick Jack up from the vet's, he came slowly waddling out on the leash from the kennel part of the clinic, head low, neck bedecked with a festive red bandana, a dog depressed. When he finally really realized that I was there and I picked him up, he just shook with glee and gave me a big couple of licks on my cheek. I am normally not a fan of dog licks. I do see what these critters consume on a farm every day and I do not want recycled horse poop, or worse, on my face, or anywhere for that matter. Yesterday's lick from Jack was ok tho. He did it with all the enthusiasm of a poor sick puppy who had not seen home or friends in a long time, and he was showing an appreciation for the change.
On the way home Jack sat in the front seat of my truck, Heidi was, of course, laying on her bench seat in the rear. During the entire ride home Jack never took his eyes off of me, fiercely holding my gazes to him, when I could safely do so and not run off the road. It was a look of thanks and a bit of desperation too, that I understand that, I should not let this happen again. Yeah, right. How the heck am I going to monitor this scavenging monster's edible consumption every day of his life from now on. It will be a challenge to say the least. But Jack has beautiful, pleading, soft, imploring, benign, and deeply engaging eyes and I will try to heed what they say, for both his sake and that of my poor deflated pocket book which has recently been giving much too often to the vet.
Tonight our band, the Fabulous Moonshine Cherry Band, will play at the smokey jazz and blues bar, 1048 in town. We don't even usually begin to play until 9 or 10 and will most likely play until the blue laws tell us to quit some time around 3am. Then there will be the loading back up and the 30 minute drive home, and a good night cap of martini, shower, throw the smokey clothes on the back porch and call it a night, or morning at that point.
There are seven of us in the band now. Dave P is lead singer, guitar player, and phenominal harmonica virtuoso, and is also our leader and commander of the goings on with the music, giving us all the much needed direction and confidence to go where ever he leads. John Mark is guitar player and singer and whose energy directs the flavor of the evening with his crazy licks on his guitar, leading us down the path he sets, to explore and jump off the edge and free fall thru the course of the song. Mike also plays guitar, and sings, providing strong lyrics and rhythms to our unlikey mix, and has written several super originals which we play. Mark, my better half, plays the key board, sets up most of the equiptment and knows what wire goes to which black box, does all the recording of our stuff so we can hear what we forget so quickly, and produces the icing on the cake to the guitar duets. Bass is played by Chris, an unbelieveable musicain of talent and energy, who helps keep me, the drummer on track and makes us form the groove to the songs. Then there's Sam. Who could figure why this man who can and does play with any group anywhere in the world, would take the time to play with us? He plays the sax most of the time and throws wonderful jazz type riffs into our mix that transports and colors the music to far away places. His smile back at you during a song is the highest compliment a player can get.
It will be a long night, and tomorow won't begin with the rooster crowing, more like the lunch bell. There is no telling what will happen tonight. It always is a different experience, always exhausting, but always fun in the sharing of the blend of love and energy that we all put into that moment of the notes. It is a magic thing to be so finely atuned to so many folks and the wave lengths. When the music is flying carefree and unbridled, the feeling is like running on top of a fence, balanced and precarious, dependent on the group's continual flow to keep from falling off. It is throwing your arms wide, closing your eyes, and falling off a cliff with total abandon. That is why I will be up late and be sore tomorrow.
Rain has almost stopped now, dogs are still at snoozing my feet, and I hear the sounds of Mark's printer buzzing out more wonderful photographs. I think it might be a good time for a bit of snooze on the back porch myself. zzzzz