Here's something you might be interested in.
Someone left a message on my machine asking why I haven't done a blog about my dog in awhile.
I thought about it, wondering if there was anything interesting that happened.
My girlfriend had been taking care of a huge lab for a friend that went out of town. And all the grief my two older brothers gave me for getting a small fluffy dog...well, that lab was so hard to handle. If we took it out for a walk, IT decided which direction we'd be going in.
When it took a poo on the sidewalk, well...the whole thing was bigger than our little white maltese.
And when I would wrestle around with it in the house...one time he scratched up my entire arm. Another time, he tore apart his teddy bear.
But then it hit me. I had a story about my dog.
When we named him, it was just going to be "Cotton." My girlfriend said he should have a first and last name, and I suggested James Cotton, after the harmonica player that worked with Howlin' Wolf for a few years, before becoming Muddy Waters right-hand man for 14 or so years.
When James Cotton was playing at the Del Mar Fair about five years ago, I got a flat tire on the way there. There was road construction being done, and they left some hole in the freeway that also caused damage to my rim. There were two people pulled over on the side of the road with flat tires. And, having my camera with me to take pictures of James Cotton helped. I was able to take photos of their tires, and after some legal threats and nasty phone calls, they paid for all our car repairs.
About a year ago, James Cotton played at Anthology, right down the street from the Reader offices. But I was out of town.
So when he played at the Belly Up Tavern last week, I was thrilled about going.
Of course, I wasn't so thrilled when I was eating dinner next door, and I heard him hit the stage at 8:00 p.m. What concert starts that early? I guess when you're in your mid-70s, that's what time you want to hit the stage.
I made my girlfriend down her white wine, as I quickly devoured my chicken pasta.
We had our dog in the car, hoping that our Cotton could meet his namesake.
After the show, we saw that they were setting up a table near the stage. He was going to sign and sell his CDs.
We purchased one for $25 and as he signed it, I told him about the dog. He laughed and said something, but because of the throat surgery he had in the mid-90s, it's hard to understand him.
My girlfriend went out to get our dog, and the woman with him said "We have a little black dog we named it Muddy Waters."
Security at the Belly Up Tavern wouldn't let us bring the pooch inside. I told them I'd carry him, we'd quickly take a photo, and be on our way. They said no way.
I asked if we could bring him out back on the patio, where the smoking area was. I was still told no.
So, I told my girlfriend to walk around the outside of the venue. They have a huge fence, and it's got barb wire on the top. But I didn't worry about the details at that point.
I told James Cotton and the woman with him, that if they came out back we'd have our dog. I explained how much we wanted a photo of the two of them together. They said they didn't know where they'd be, but they'd try to make it out there.
My girlfriend handed the dog over to me, as if it was a brick of cocaine I was smuggling into a prison. I could barely reach him standing on my tip-toes and reaching over the fence, careful not to scratch my dog on the fence.
A few of the people smoking commented on how cute he was.
Dr. John walked by with a cane. He was with a woman that was probably half his age. A fan stopped him to sign his St. Louis Rams T-shirt and they talked briefly.
I talked to someone in Dr. John's band, and he said he'd go tell James Cotton that the dog was cute and he should come out.
The woman came out and we talked briefly. She said, "We'll be in the tan van. We'll drive out on the other side and you can meet us there in about five minutes."
Just then, I see a tall security guard look over. My dog and I had been caught. The guy rolled his eyes and walked away.
I handed the dog back to my girlfriend, who wasn't sure what was going down.
I told her I'd meet her out there in a minute and we quickly went to the other end of the venue.
As the van pulled up, I remembered a racquetball friend of mine that dropped something off at my house the other night at 11:00 p.m. The dog went nuts when the window came down and he started talking to me. I wondered if he'd do this again.
My girlfriend reminded me that our dog sometimes barks at African-Americans, too. We had two strikes against us.
As the window came down, we saw James Cotton wearing a hat. Something else our dog barks at.
Well, our dog went nuts. He was barking louder than ever, and it took all my strength to keep him in my arms.
I quickly said, "Cotton, this man has a treat for you." With that, my dog stopped barking and started wagging his tail.
As James Cotton reached out to pet Cotton, someone in his band said, "Don't be petting that mother f***ing dog! It's gonna bite your fingers off!"
He quickly pulled his hand back, until he saw the dog was going to behave itself.
As he pet our dog, he said a few things. And again, I couldn't understand him. His voice sounded like a frog. But a frog that was whispering. So, I quickly told him the story about how we named him. I also said I looked for a collar that was shaped like a harmonica or music note. Instead, we have one that's blue and shaped like a bone.
We took a few close-up shots, with me sticking the dog near the van window. I didn't want to keep the band too long. I knew they had a show the next day up north, and I had no clue if they were going to be driving up there or back to a hotel. But when I talked to Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull recently, he said "People don't realize...I'll be signing autographs backstage for about an hour. For security and all these people. Then I sign for the fans, for a couple hours outside the venue. And I look over, and my band is scrunched into a van waiting for me so we can go back to the hotel."
The whole meeting probably took about 10 minutes, and we were thrilled.
We walked back to the car laughing at how much our dog barked. I said, "Maybe James Cotton was just giving off a bad vibe, and was giving our dog the blues."
Typical dog owners, blaming everyone else for their dogs behavior.
Someone left a message on my machine asking why I haven't done a blog about my dog in awhile.
I thought about it, wondering if there was anything interesting that happened.
My girlfriend had been taking care of a huge lab for a friend that went out of town. And all the grief my two older brothers gave me for getting a small fluffy dog...well, that lab was so hard to handle. If we took it out for a walk, IT decided which direction we'd be going in.
When it took a poo on the sidewalk, well...the whole thing was bigger than our little white maltese.
And when I would wrestle around with it in the house...one time he scratched up my entire arm. Another time, he tore apart his teddy bear.
But then it hit me. I had a story about my dog.
When we named him, it was just going to be "Cotton." My girlfriend said he should have a first and last name, and I suggested James Cotton, after the harmonica player that worked with Howlin' Wolf for a few years, before becoming Muddy Waters right-hand man for 14 or so years.
When James Cotton was playing at the Del Mar Fair about five years ago, I got a flat tire on the way there. There was road construction being done, and they left some hole in the freeway that also caused damage to my rim. There were two people pulled over on the side of the road with flat tires. And, having my camera with me to take pictures of James Cotton helped. I was able to take photos of their tires, and after some legal threats and nasty phone calls, they paid for all our car repairs.
About a year ago, James Cotton played at Anthology, right down the street from the Reader offices. But I was out of town.
So when he played at the Belly Up Tavern last week, I was thrilled about going.
Of course, I wasn't so thrilled when I was eating dinner next door, and I heard him hit the stage at 8:00 p.m. What concert starts that early? I guess when you're in your mid-70s, that's what time you want to hit the stage.
I made my girlfriend down her white wine, as I quickly devoured my chicken pasta.
We had our dog in the car, hoping that our Cotton could meet his namesake.
After the show, we saw that they were setting up a table near the stage. He was going to sign and sell his CDs.
We purchased one for $25 and as he signed it, I told him about the dog. He laughed and said something, but because of the throat surgery he had in the mid-90s, it's hard to understand him.
My girlfriend went out to get our dog, and the woman with him said "We have a little black dog we named it Muddy Waters."
Security at the Belly Up Tavern wouldn't let us bring the pooch inside. I told them I'd carry him, we'd quickly take a photo, and be on our way. They said no way.
I asked if we could bring him out back on the patio, where the smoking area was. I was still told no.
So, I told my girlfriend to walk around the outside of the venue. They have a huge fence, and it's got barb wire on the top. But I didn't worry about the details at that point.
I told James Cotton and the woman with him, that if they came out back we'd have our dog. I explained how much we wanted a photo of the two of them together. They said they didn't know where they'd be, but they'd try to make it out there.
My girlfriend handed the dog over to me, as if it was a brick of cocaine I was smuggling into a prison. I could barely reach him standing on my tip-toes and reaching over the fence, careful not to scratch my dog on the fence.
A few of the people smoking commented on how cute he was.
Dr. John walked by with a cane. He was with a woman that was probably half his age. A fan stopped him to sign his St. Louis Rams T-shirt and they talked briefly.
I talked to someone in Dr. John's band, and he said he'd go tell James Cotton that the dog was cute and he should come out.
The woman came out and we talked briefly. She said, "We'll be in the tan van. We'll drive out on the other side and you can meet us there in about five minutes."
Just then, I see a tall security guard look over. My dog and I had been caught. The guy rolled his eyes and walked away.
I handed the dog back to my girlfriend, who wasn't sure what was going down.
I told her I'd meet her out there in a minute and we quickly went to the other end of the venue.
As the van pulled up, I remembered a racquetball friend of mine that dropped something off at my house the other night at 11:00 p.m. The dog went nuts when the window came down and he started talking to me. I wondered if he'd do this again.
My girlfriend reminded me that our dog sometimes barks at African-Americans, too. We had two strikes against us.
As the window came down, we saw James Cotton wearing a hat. Something else our dog barks at.
Well, our dog went nuts. He was barking louder than ever, and it took all my strength to keep him in my arms.
I quickly said, "Cotton, this man has a treat for you." With that, my dog stopped barking and started wagging his tail.
As James Cotton reached out to pet Cotton, someone in his band said, "Don't be petting that mother f***ing dog! It's gonna bite your fingers off!"
He quickly pulled his hand back, until he saw the dog was going to behave itself.
As he pet our dog, he said a few things. And again, I couldn't understand him. His voice sounded like a frog. But a frog that was whispering. So, I quickly told him the story about how we named him. I also said I looked for a collar that was shaped like a harmonica or music note. Instead, we have one that's blue and shaped like a bone.
We took a few close-up shots, with me sticking the dog near the van window. I didn't want to keep the band too long. I knew they had a show the next day up north, and I had no clue if they were going to be driving up there or back to a hotel. But when I talked to Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull recently, he said "People don't realize...I'll be signing autographs backstage for about an hour. For security and all these people. Then I sign for the fans, for a couple hours outside the venue. And I look over, and my band is scrunched into a van waiting for me so we can go back to the hotel."
The whole meeting probably took about 10 minutes, and we were thrilled.
We walked back to the car laughing at how much our dog barked. I said, "Maybe James Cotton was just giving off a bad vibe, and was giving our dog the blues."
Typical dog owners, blaming everyone else for their dogs behavior.