Good bye, Casey the puppy

So my dog Casey, passed away
Oct 1, 2007 about 3 in the morning
or so,and later, in the afternoon,

we buried her. Then I went

to Purgatory (which is the name

of an off-leash park were I would

take Casey for a walk and practice

my music. We would go almost

every day).

I wanted to record something, and it was important

to me that it be recorded here, because Casey

loved going to this park, running around, meeting

other dogs, etc, etc.

Anyways, so I made a couple attempts on another

instrument (a hulusu, a Chinese gourd flute), but I

was not getting what I wanted, and the sun was
starting to set, and I didn't want to be playing in the

dark, and I felt I needed to get something recorded

before the sun set, or the moment would be lost.

(Of course I could go record something

the next day,or when ever, but that's just being practical

and you know what, "F**k being practical.)

So, with the sun quickly setting, I gave up on the hulusu, and

went for the another instrument in my car that I had

grabbed on the way out the door, a flagolet

(which is what you call a tin whistle when it's made out

of wood, not "tin").

Now, about a year ago, I was walking along the

path at Purgatory, with Casey following along, playing
a Clarke tin whistle,and this lady came up to me

out of nowhere. She had tears running down her face,

so you'd figure she was sad, and something was wrong,

right? But she was smiling, and she'd come up to me

to thank me for playing, something she'd found beautiful.

It turns out her son had passed away, and she had gone

to the park after the funeral, and the flute-like songs

drifting through the woods, was something she found

appropriate to the mix of emotions she was feeling.

It was for her a moment when she could really

acknowledge her love and her loss in one joyous

moment that she could hold on to, and music was the

catalyst.

I of course was just practicing my music, and walking

my dog (or more correctly walking along with my dog

lazily following along in her own sweet time), and was

blissfully unaware of any profound event going on

around me.

As soon as she appeared, told her story and thanked me,

she walked away, leaving me going "Huh?",

So I went back to practicing my music. But somewhere

in the back of my mind, I'd stored this event, and so as

I'm walking out of my bedroom, I grab the flagolet,

without even thinking why.

Now, with the sun setting in a couple minutes, I have

one, maybe two chances to record something, before

I'm sitting there alone in the dark.

If that happens, the moment is lost, and I really

want something this day to capture what Casey

meant to me.

I take the flagolet out of the car, pull it out of

the case, and hit the record button of my portable

digital recorder, and compose an air, I later call

"10/01/07" playing here: http://glennbowen.biz/

I think a minute about trying to do another

recording, but I decide that this is what I want

to keep. By October 1st the sun is setting

fast and a minute or two later it is dark out.

I drive home in the night.

Now, I'm not saying it's great or anything -

I'm a Blues harmonica player,
not an Irish Tin Whistle player.

Whatever,

This is a lamentation for Casey the Puppy,

and a description of why it's called 10/1/07.

http://glennbowen.biz/

Goodbye Puppy Friend