Erasing Musical Boundaries

The Life Of Lil' Chauncey

If I were a dog I suppose I'd want to be mine.

They do say dogs pick their owners, never the other way around. Of course this is quite a dilemma for those people who want to take credit for having 'chosen' a wonderful dog, but I'm certain it's true.

I can just imagine my Chauncey riding in the back of that burgundy '89 Capri, having ridden who knows how far, waiting to come across some unsuspecting dog lover that would willingly take care of her for the rest of her dog days. Did she plan prior to that ride to lick me on the nose when I asked to see her tongue, sealing the fate that would ultimately allow her to see a Dr. and get rid of her pesky mange? In her decision process did she take into consideration the fact that if she chose me, she'd have an 8-year-old playmate waiting at home? A male dog from whom she would learn the doggie ropes, who would ever so patiently roll his eyes while allowing her to incessantly tug at his long coat. A mature companion who would allow her to hang on him from her tiny stance, barely reaching the floor as he continued about his business only slightly affected by the energetic appendage.

I wonder if she knew when she picked me that my roommate would love her as much as I would. Being a canine of female persuasion, I'm certain, even at her young age, she would have understood the implications of living with two women; twice as many shoes to chew, the probability of a softer touch when discipline would be required, the inevitability of lots of men around, the opportunity to act the loud hero when curious noises threaten and the assurance that she'd compassionately be allowed under the covers on nights when the sky lights up and cracks.

In her wildest dreams I bet Chauncey was afraid to even hope for a white picket fence. A fence where she'd be able to watch the world go by while running and playing safely away from the street cars. Did she ever presume, as she rode in that car up the street behind me, that if she picked me, at my house she'd have the opportunity to test her digging skills and taste adventure at such and early age, running with the neighborhood pack and then hone her instincts as she'd have to find her way back home.

Someone must have told Chauncey that the white girls on Straightway Avenue keep their shoes under their beds, where any pup worth her weight in pepperoni could easily damage them for days without being noticed. She was obviously told there were scarves and boas conspicuously hung about the house, which after a predictable growth spurt at 3 months would be reachable with the slightest of efforts. Even in her young mind she would be privy to the strength her puppy teeth would have and how once obtained those priceless jewels could be easily torn into bite size pieces then strewn about the yard with an air of "who's the boss of me?"

Chauncey could not possibly have known, when she was being driven through the streets of East Nashville preparing to make her final decision that so few dog lovers take their canine babies on road trips to Kentucky for their 3 month birthdays. I would venture to guess even fewer pups attain passenger status for spring days spent in doorless jeeps where ears can flap and eyes can water in 70 mph highway winds, with the likes of 18 wheelers a simple slobber away.

I can't be sure but I doubt many Nashville pups have been included in the nightlife Chauncey has seen in her short life. Since her 8th week she has been seen sleeping in the jeep outside some of the most prestigious bars and restaurants Nashville has to offer. Not to mention she has staked her claim on every patch of grass that can be found within 50 yards of those establishments. Were she in control of her rate of expansion I'm certain the pup would have slowed it down if only for the purposes of continuing to be snuck into the happening coffee shops which exist in obvious celebration of our beloved canine community. Most pups never get to see the cozy insides.

While this may all sound like quite a wonderful life Chauncey has chosen for herself, I bet she would admit she did not fully comprehend the fact that the 'Chauncey girls' lifestyle would mostly exclude food and water until the first signs delirium kicked in. And she might not have thought through the dangers of being so pretty a pup in the East Nashville hood. But even now, with her newly scared snout from the Woodland Avenue bullies, and often having to remind me when she's hungry…she couldn't possibly wish she had ended up anywhere else.

If I were a dog…I'd want to be mine.