By Al Batt
A family member was inducted into something great. As her name was announced, I stood and gave a loud whistle. I’d have done more, but I wasn’t sure what the rules allowed because she was one of the first to be introduced. It turned out I could have stomped, screamed and made a complete fool of myself, generally behaving as if civilization had passed me by. A missed opportunity to be myself, but at least I whistled.
In the animated film, “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” Snow White sang, “Whistle While You Work.” Years later, Alvin and the Chipmunks covered the song. We learned from the best – Snow White, Alvin, Simon and Theodore – that we should whistle while we work. That was it; the end of the lesson.
I remember a grade-school classroom where two grades shared a room. A friend of mine had just learned how to whistle. Whenever he did some work at his desk, he whistled. He whistled while he worked. The teacher nipped that habit in the bud.
I mimicked my father’s whistle early on. I’m not the whistler he was, but I try. I have whistled for a cab. Once. It didn’t stop. That action works best in the movies.
I listened to a chickadee whistle fee-bee. It’s my favorite bird. I whistled back.
A friend said, “I need to whistle,” which meant he needed to visit the restroom after “wetting his whistle” while enjoying an adult libation.
A coach told me I should keep my locker as clean as a whistle. Neat and tidy.
New cars came with all the bells and whistles.
I have whistled in the dark and whistled past the graveyard. These phrases meant I tried to stay cheerful, brave or confident while fearful. I put on a brave face when I was upset or uncomfortable.
Photo by Al Batt
My cousin had his fingers and toes crossed when he got a border collie. That breed of dog is legendary. The border collie is bred to herd sheep, ducks, chickens, kids, chickadees and – you name it. I’ve forgotten the dog’s name, but he came when he heard a whistle. I’ll call him Fido because I feel I should call him something.
Fido had been to school. My cousin sent Fido to an out-of-state training that came with a substantial tuition.
Fido took classes where treats were given for clever work, but Fido wasn’t an inspired student and couldn’t be bought with a few tidbits. He might have been on the football team there, but he was no scholar. Perhaps he tried herding cats and felt there was no future in that sort of thing. Fido’s resolve was easily shaken, and he had just enough schooling to perplex him.
Had Fido been a pointer, he’d have been a disappointer.
Do dogs have life coaches? Fido needed one.
My cousin whistled for Fido, but found his whistle was feeble. He kept whistling because it’s a poor dog that isn’t worth a whistle. He tried using a dog whistle, but Fido refused to use it.
Fido herded no sheep.
Maybe Fido wanted to be a whistler instead of a herder.
There is probably a herding app today, and a whistling app.
Anyone saying that Fido had proven to be a nothing burger as a herding dog wasn’t just whistling Dixie.
My cousin and his wife believed there was no such thing as a bad dog and agreed that Fido needed vocational testing to match his unique interests, skills and personality to a job better suited to him than herding.
Fido was at home on the range, where nothing roaming needed herding, and there was seldom heard a discouraging word.
Fido was loyal and loving, but he didn’t want to herd anything. Fido just wanted to ride in my cousin’s pickup. In Homer’s “The Odyssey,” Odysseus’s loyal dog, Argos, recognized his master after 20 years despite Odysseus being disguised as a beggar. I’ll bet Fido would have recognized that pickup in a disguise after 20 years.
We all try to find our place in the world. Fido found his place was riding shotgun in the cab of a pickup truck.
If Fido has a gravestone, I’ll bet the inscription reads, “Here lies Fido. He never meant to herd anyone.”
Leave a Reply