3/30/97 - 6/8/05

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Vern's a good singer guy...


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. 

Well, 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.

Your 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!

Thereafter, 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.

I 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 kids!

After we 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 Rottweilers!