Hollywood Dog

I have a friend who works in a pet store. A customer came in with his dog and my friend’s workmate said to the customer, “That’s a good looking dog, he should be in the movies. “

Well, as it turned out the dog had been in two pilot’s, a commercial, and had just finished his first movie.

“That’s impressive,” the workmate said. “Where’d you get him?”

“The pound. I fell in love with him the minute I saw him. I tried to adopt him right then and there, but he had a chip in him... pound policy is if a dog has a chip in him, they wait twenty-eight days before they give them up for adoption. I went to the pound every day for the next twenty-six days to check on him. Nobody claimed him after twenty-eight days. He was ready for adoption. I was going to show up early in the morning and bring him home. It was the night before the adoption when the phone rang. It was the pound.

“If you want the dog, you better get here at five in the morning to claim him, we have ten families interested in him.”

“I showed up at five in the morning.”
"What did you name him?"
"His name was Echo, but I changed it to Jake."

Bob Dylan

Last night I fell asleep with the radio on. I’ve been doing that lately. There’s a radio show called, “Something’s Happening,” with Roy of Hollywood. Roy’s been doing the show since the seventies.

            I got in bed and was listening to Jack Cornfield. The last thing I heard Jack say was, be kind to people, for they are involved in an epic battle, or something to that affect. I might have added the word epic, but you get the point.

It made perfect sense to me. Good old Jack Cornfield. He’s a wise one.

            I woke up to the grand announcement that it was Bob Dylan’s seventh birthday. I had no idea. I’m glad he made it to seventy, but it struck me as odd for some reason. Him being seventy didn’t sit well with me, but on the other hand I’m glad he didn’t pull an Elvis. 

            They were playing old radio clips from 1961 when he was twenty. He was just a nice goofy kid then. The host asked him a few questions and than Bob played a song. His playing was effortless, perfect timing, no mistakes, didn’t forget the words, good parenting. Amazing. I’m about as opposite of that as you can get. It takes me years to remember the words to my own songs, and at any given moment I could forget them, and drift off to think about something else. I’m pretty sure I have Attention Deficit Disorder, which makes it doubly hard to get through a song. I have fun writing them, but it sure is a battle to play'em.