I Just Read About That…

SOUNDTRACK: DAVID O’DOHERTY-“Florence Falls” (2012).

Back in 2012, Cathy Davey said she’d “been trying to figure out how to raise awareness for homeless dogs without it becoming a negative campaign.”  She says she “wondered how many songwriters would be interested in writing songs about dogs they have loved. It turns out nearly everyone I approached had a story to tell…”

So Davey and Neil Hannon of The Divine Comedy curated this album.  Proceeds from the album go to the Dublin-based Dogs In Distress.

The album features new recordings from fourteen artists, including Lisa Hannigan.  When the album came out Hannigan tweeted: “A dog is for life, this album is for Christmas” playing on the Humane Society’s “A dog is for life, not just for Christmas” which is designed to discourage giving pets as holiday gifts if they can’t be cared for.  Sharon Shannon and David Gray both contribute instrumentals).  And of course, The Divine Comedy.

I was planning  to write about The Divine Comedy song, but my favorite track turned out to be this one from David O’Doherty, an Irish comedian.  I don’t know anything about O’Doherty, but the delivery of this bittersweet song was top notch.

Musically, the song is simple, just a keyboard playing a nice melody.  The story starts somewhat sweetly as Florence’s owner returns home.

As my key went in the door I’d call your name, you’d start to growl
And move menacingly across the floor
And as you’d thundered down the stairs
Snarling angrily
I’d wonder why I liked you so much
And you always hated me

The details of how bad Florence was are really hilarious.

In the winter you’d curl up by the fire at home
I’d go off to get your chew-chew
And then you’d eat my mobile phone

Then we realize just how bad Florence was

The first time that you nipped me people said you were just young
And the second time it was the heat
And the third you were only having fun (ha ha ha ha ha)
And the fourth time I actually needed Tetanus and you got neutered at the vet
She said that it would calm you down
And then you bit me on the leg

And since Christmas is coming, there’s a Christmas verse too:

I remember one time at Christmas
When you opened all the stuff
I put you out into the garden
And you were furious
You cried so much at this great injustice
I had to let you back in
And then you were good for an hour

…
Then you licked the turkey

Florence was truly a terrible dog.  A terrible pet.  And yet the ending reveals the truth:

Oh, Florence, there was nothing good about you I can’t think of anything
But I wish that you were still at home … hating me again.
You were a rubbish dog
But a rubbish dog is better than no dog

And even though this song is sweet and might make you a little teary-eyed, the phrase “rubbish dog” will always make me laugh.

[READ: November 30, 2019] “The Curfew”

I have loved Roddy Doyle’s stories for years.  His early stuff was very funny, but it has been a pretty long time since he has written anything genuinely funny.  But no matter, because what he writes is always good and very real.

The curfew in this story is in place because ex-Hurricane Ophelia is heading towards Dublin.

The protagonist is heading home, with a half hour to spare before the curfew.  His wife is dismissive of the curfew–“Do they think it’s a civil war?  It’s only a bit of weather,” but he likes the drama of it.  He felt like he was helping to stave of a catastrophe–it was doing him good.  It almost kept his mind off the medical news.

A couple of wees ago he’d had a checkup.  All he could remember was the prostate exam.  He smiled to himself thinking he could now address his daughter’s lectures about gender: “I know what you’re talking about, he’d be tempted to say.  A woman doctor had her finger up my arse and she was thoroughly professional.”

A week later the doctor phoned to say that he had coronary-artery disease.  She called it the widow’s block.  She told him not to worry and to not look up anything on Google.  He would have a procedure and take some meds and he should be fine.

He looked up realized a woman was walking towards him with a baby in a sling.  But it wasn’t a baby, it was a teddy bear.  How weird.  He remembers wearing his youngest in a similar sling.  He’d hated the previous gear–the backpack.  He hated not being able to see what his children were doing.  He’d even once convinced himself that his eldest was dead and he was carrying her around.

Hard to believe his kids are all grown up and he is now the old dad in the house.

He laughs about his own old dad.  He was always losing is pills.  “Where are my pills, where did I leave my pills?”  This repeated refrain had made the grandkids–his kids–laugh whenever they heard it.  When they came to visit, “they still said it when they were looking for the salt at the table or a missing sock under the bed.”

He would not be like that.  He wouldn’t call them pills either, he’d call the tablets an he wouldn’t forget.

He looked at the labels which all said may cause dizziness–do not operate machinery.  He imagined joking with his wife: “I fell off the laptop–within seconds of taking the things.”

He fell asleep until his wife got home.  His arm hurt–was it heart attack?  No he had just fallen asleep on it.  His wife said he always slept with his arms folded as if he’d been sitting in a chair and had fallen off it, straight into bed.

As with many of Doyle’s stories, it grows surprisingly emotional as the man who has been holding everything in finally allows his emotions to come out.

Roddy Doyle is older than me by a decade or so, and I feel like I have aged along with his narrators–constantly relating to their concerns.