The Brick Piano Is Nothing Like Par and Uncle Elvis

Perdita Whacknoodle, dog poet and dog writerI have been a bit absent from my own blog, lately, because I have been a very busy dog. And my scribe, who purports to be helping with my books and other writings, CLAIMS he has other things to do.

I think he needs to prioritize his priorities. I should come first. THAT is obvious.

You may be one of the lucky people who got a free copy of my little Christmas offering, the two Christmas stories for the Kindle, or Kinnel, or Klondike, or whatever you humans call that thing with the books in it. Even though Christmas is past, you can still get that book. It’s not free any more, but it’s stunningly cheap. Worth every bit of the ninety-nine cents, too.Perdita Whacknoodle Christmas Book Cover

It seems that over 7,500 people around the world got my Christmas stories for their Kindles, which gives me a nice warm feeling. I’m a happy dog-author to know that people in Japan and France and Canada are benefiting from my stories and thoughts. My plan is to slowly improve the world, until humans are as well-adjusted and happy as dogs.

Of course, working with humans is frustrating and slow, so I try to keep my hopes in bounds.

Incredibly, my scribe has another blob, or blog, or whatever you call this thing, for one of his other activities, which is bang on the piano for people. Don’t ask me why.

He does not appear to know my favorite song, which is “Bury the Bone Deep, Boys, Winter is a’ Comin On,” an old family favorite and a beautiful song that’s widely known by dogs everywhere. In my opinion, if you don’t know “Bury the Bone Deep, Boys,” you’re not much of a musician.

But, for all his faults, my scribe HAS introduced me to the readers of his other blob, which he calls The Brick Piano for some reason. (If your piano was made of bricks, then you couldn’t play it, could you? But, as I often say, there’s just no accounting for humans. You can’t figure them out. Don’t even try.)

But, just think . . . IF my scribe’s piano were actually made of bricks, we might all be better off. Because nothing he plays sounds good to me, and brick keys would slow him down, for sure.

In fact, NO human song can equal the stunningly beautiful, hauntingly mournful sounds of my dear father, Par Whack, and his friend Uncle Elvis, singing their hearts out on “Bury the Bone Deep, Boys!” Elvis is a hound with a truly exceptional low voice, and once you’ve heard them sing . . . well, a mere piano just has nothing to offer.

But, as I was saying, the readers of The Brick Piano now know about me, so my uplifting fame is spreading far and wide. They can even buy my books!

And that makes me even happier. Almost as happy has having a nice scratch behind the ears.

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