Agility: Dog or God?

Since Mona (my coon hound mix) and I completed  beginning and intermediate agility classes on Sunday mornings at the Peninsula Humane Society, I felt it was time to up the ante a little.  Rachel, our teacher, was no longer going to make the hour drive from her home up to Burlingame.  She was, however, going to teach a more advanced class down in San Martin (about an hour's drive for me).  The class was going to be on Sunday mornings (again).  I have no conflicts during that time except for singing in a friend's church choir.  But because I cannot make very many of the rehearsals since they are on Thursday evenings, my choice between God and Dog is easy: Dog wins out.

When Rachel said this would be a more advanced class, she really wasn't kidding.  Held in a competition size field, it has all the equipment set up.  Rachel makes different courses by placing yellow plastic numbers by each element (hurdle, A-frame, tunnel, etc.) and the people run their dogs--RUN being the operative word.  The other folks in the class have dogs who are way more advanced.  The dogs are able to whisk through the weave poles like lightening and go to each jump with a point of the finger or verbal command.  It's really inspiring and at the same time, frustrating.  Mona, who is 11 years old, is still learning a few of the elements, i.e. the weave poles.  I ordered some poles of my own, and now have them set up in our living room for easy access.  It looks silly, but allows us to practice when ever the mood hits.  As far as the teeter-totter goes, we will just have to learn it during class time.  Because of Mona's advanced age (though she is still very agile, leaping over the fence at the local dog park to chase rabbits) she jumps hurdles that are only 16 inches high.  The other dogs her size jump 22 inches, some with room to spare.  One mini-Australian shepherd soars over the jumps, obviously really enjoying it.  Mona is doing very well, especially when I know the drill.  And isn't that the way most things go?  For examples of dog agility, simply go to You Tube and type in Dog Agility.

News Flash:  This just in.  Rachel and her dog Kubby got 3rd place at the national competition in Tennessee they attended last week.  Congratulations! 

A Musical Mystery: Part 4

When I got home that afternoon, I saw James' Jeep in front of the house and knew I would have to confront him.  I stormed inside, with my stomach in my mouth.  "How could you have done such a thing?" I demanded as he calmly sat on a living room cushion. "How could you have taken Portnoy's bow and bass?

"I didn't really do anything wrong," James explained matter of factly. "I took the bass because he has several others and doesn't really need this one.  And the bow, I actually didn't think he would miss it."

"The bow, I can see that it would be easy to take and get away with it.  But the bass...how on earth did you get it  and where is it?"

"I just put it in its BSO trunk backstage at the Shed (where they played) and had it shipped down here to my folk's house.  It's sitting in their garage right now," he replied.

"You know Portnoy is coming down here tomorrow.  He is furious!  Who knows what he is going to do.  I can't believe you did this!  Don't you realize how serious it is?"

Totally unsatisfied with James' behavior and rationalizations, I stayed at a friend's house that night.  Thankfully, I had a very busy schedule the next day and missed the police and Mr. Portnoy coming to our house for the bow and then driving up to James' parents in North Miami.  After retrieving his bow and bass, Mr. Portnoy decided not to press charges as long as James promised to see a psychiatrist.  I quickly moved out of our house and into student housing with a friend.  As far as I know, James never did seek counseling, and Mr. Portnoy never pressed charges.  James had explained that I had had nothing to do with the heist, and miraculously I was left alone.  But I was not invited back to Tanglewood again, something I regret to this day.  I also found out that Portnoy told his next summer's class of bass students that I had helped James with the robbery.  I immediately called him up and begged him to believe that I had known nothing about the heist until Dr. Drew had told me and that I had been blinded by love.  He seemed to believe me.  Nearly 40 years later, I spoke with one of the current BSO bassists and he told me that it would not be impossible to smuggle a bass from backstage at the Shed, since things can get pretty chaotic there at the end of the summer.  Needless to say, I have had no further contact with James and hopefully have gained some wisdom along the way.  I am truly sorry about what happened and learned a valuable lesson.

The End

A Musical Mystery: Part 3

James and I drove the rest of the way to Miami, he with his bass and I with mine, without incident.  We stayed at  his parents' house until we were able to find a cute  bungalow near the University, where I would be starting my second year of graduate school.  I was studying privately with Dr. Lucas Drew and had 11 private students of my own.  I also was playing with the Miami Philharmonic.  James continued to practice, freelance and tend to his bees.  We decorated our little house which mercifully sat in the shade most of the time;  we didn't have air conditioning--just fans.  I was thoroughly enjoying my life:  I loved playing the bass and was still madly in love with James.

We lived happily like this for all of the first semester.   In January, when the second semester started at the University, we met a student from Boston who had come to Miami to study with Dr. Drew.  His name was Jeff and he had been taking lessons with BSO Principal Bass, Henry Portnoy.  One day, we invited him over to our house to play duets and trios.  Jeff brought his bass and bow and was  interested in what kind of basses and bows James and I were playing.  He looked at James' bow and was very surprised.  "There are only two bows by this maker--Henry Portnoy has one and BSO Bassist X (false name used to protect the innocent) has the other.  I'll have to call Henry and tell him about this extra bow!" Jeff said.  I didn't think anything of it at the time,  but a few days later, Dr. Drew called me into his office for a private meeting.

"Henry Portnoy called me this morning and told me he has been missing a bow since Tanglewood was over.  Jeff called and told him that there was a third bow by that same maker down here in Miami. Henry immediately exclaimed that there was no third bow.  He said the bow James has is his bow and that James stole it.  But that's not all.  Henry's summer Tanglewood bass has also been missing since the end of the summer season, and he is sure James has that too.  Does James have that bow and bass?"

I was shocked beyond words.  I hadn't paid any attention to what bow James had been using.  And he only had his Ceruti bass at home.  I couldn't believe my ears---how had James managed to steal a bass from Tanglewood and bring it down to Miami.  It certainly wasn't at our house.  I told Dr. Drew that I had no knowledge of any of it.  "Well," he said.  "You'll have to tell Henry what you know.  He's convinced that you and James thought up a plot, and were in cahoots in order to steal the bass and the bow.  He's flying down from Boston tomorrow."  I didn't know how James could have gotten the bass down to Miami, since he and I had driven back together, and he only had one bass.  How could this have happened?  Was I so in love that I had totally missed what had gone on?

A Musical Mystery: Part 2

Staying out in the woods, with a few members of the BSO in neighboring campsites, turned out to be a very pleasant experience.  We could see the lake through the trees from the doorway of the tent.  I could also go back to the dorm for a shower, or for a sick bay as I had a bad kidney infection and had to spend a few days in bed.  James continued to take lessons with Larry and had to be gone for his court date.  But I never really questioned him about that, mainly, I think, due to naivite.

Our concerts were amazing:  I had never played in such a good orchestra.  We also got to play a concert with the BSO:   Guerrelieder by Schoenberg which calls for a huge orchestra, chorus and vocal soloists.  It was conducted by Seigi Ozawa and was an experience that I will never forget.

The five other bass players in the program and I got to be very good friends.  We drove with the other woman bassist to New York City to check out a bass that she ended up buying.  We also would go out after the concerts for food and drink and have remained in touch to this day.  Before long though, the summer was over and we were packing up to go home.  James and I took down the tent and drove in convoy south to return to Miami.

On our trip, we stayed in some motels, but one night we came to a KOA campground.  It was close to midnight and the sign said it was full for the night. The office was closed but James said, "Let's go in anyway.  There's bound to be an empty campsite."  So, against my better judgement, we went in.

The trees were black around us, standing tall, silent giants.  Fireflies flitted about, magical flashing pinpoints, forming a kaleidoscope of tiny lights.  Driving up and down the rows, we didn't see any empty sites until we were almost to the end.  There was a vacant campsite that was marked reserved.  "Oh, that's probably for tomorrow," said James.  "Besides, it's so late, no one would be coming in at this hour."

Famous last words.  After we had set up the tent, gotten into our sleeping bags, and been asleep for a couple hours, we were awakened by voices and flashlights shining into the tent.  "Can't you see the "reserved" sign?" shouted a male voice.  "Get out of there right now and leave the campground!" The camp host was there with the people who had reserved the site.  We sheepishly got dressed, took down the tent as fast as we could and got back on the road.  We ended up parking on the side of the highway, a few miles away, and slept until dawn.