I remember the
day you started singing.
Your Daddy was in the
studio recording vocals for "In My Mind". He hit
and held the note for the word "again". He did it
a couple times and then you just stood up and extended your chin
and sang with him. You hit the right note and you held it
out just like your Daddy.
what Daddy could have his perfect baby boy do that and not be
thrilled?! He was so excited, but he didn't know how to make
you do it again, so he hit and held the same note and word again
and you sang with him again. Your Daddy was so proud he was
nearly busting. He came and got the family and hit and held
the note again and this time you sang for all of us.
Tinkerbell got so jealous that she lifted up her chin and sang
with you. But Tinkerbell sings like Mommy -- off key.
You kept nudging her with your muzzle the whole time, as though
trying to get her back in key. What a team you were!
you would sing anytime your Daddy got you going, and of course
Tinkerbell would help. You would also sing whenever you were
locked up away from guests that mistook you two for scary doggies,
whenever we left the house, whenever the only person in the house
went to the bathroom, and whenever an aid car passed by with
sirens going. Sometimes you would start it and sometimes
Tinkerbell would start it. You two became quite well known
as Paul Crisman's singing Rottweilers because your Daddy's band
was named Rottweiller for so many years.
remember one day I came out of the bathroom and saw you and
Tinkerbell sitting on the bed with an expectant look. I
thought you wanted to sing so I tried to hit the note.
Mommy is a bad singer and the note was thin and reedy and very
likely completely off. It is a dog's job to look at it's
owner, no matter what the owner does, as though it were the most
incredible thing on earth. Not you two -- no sir!
You two are music critics! Vern, you just tilted your head
to the side, one ear up and scrunched up your face in the
"What the heck is THAT?!" face, and bless
Tinkerbell, she was almost worse -- she just kept staring at me
as though she were still waiting for me to sing. You goofy
learned you had cancer, we realized that we wouldn't be able to
take your singing for granted. Your Daddy mic'd up the
room and we pretended to leave the house. You two were
pretty clever, and it took a while for you to start singing, but
we did get one good recording of Paul Crisman's singing