TAVERN OF THE SEAS david biggs Classical or rock?
ISOMETIMES wonder what animals think about the music we humans play. Do they like music, hate it or merely tolerate it? Or is it just another weird sound people make, like coughing or farting?
Many years ago, in a previous life, I worked for the Department of Agriculture as a milk tester.
One of the farmers I visited on a regular basis always had soothing music playing in his milking shed and told me he was sure it increased his herd’s production.
I should have asked him whether his cows preferred classical music or rock.
Did Mozart increase the cream content and Elvis produce milk shakes?
It might have been interesting to know.
My two cats have very different tastes when it comes to music. I sometimes practise playing the accordion and as soon as Lucy sees me taking the instrument out of its case, she’s off like a rocket and stays outside until I stop.
Phi-phi, on the other hand, seems to enjoy the noise I make and sits staring at me as I play.
I don’t know which cat actually has good taste.
I suspect they might regard accordion music as something akin to the calls of rutting cats and maybe Lucy is simply not in the mood.
When I was growing up on the farm they used to ring a big bell to announce that it was time to come in for lunch.
As soon as our cook, Jinna, pulled that bell rope all the farm dogs would start howling. (I think it created a sort of reverse Pavlovian reflex in me, because every time I hear a dog howling my mouth starts to water and I wonder what’s for lunch.)
At junior school I had a music teacher who thought she could make a musician of me by smacking my knuckles with a ruler every time I played a wrong note.
She had six dreadful little Pekinese dogs – all slightly deaf – and they would howl in unison whenever I played a high note. Between that woman and those dogs I developed a hearty hatred of music, which stayed with me for several years.
One thing I do regret about it is that I never learnt to read music.
I threatened to run away from school unless I was allowed to drop the music lessons.
They lasted only one term. To this day I have mixed feelings about Pekinese dogs.
Last Laugh
When John came home from work his wife was very angry and before he could even greet her she slapped his face hard.
“What was that for?” he asked in a hurt voice.
“I found this slip of paper in your shirt pocket when I was doing the laundry,” she said, and held up a piece of paper with ‘Sue-Ann’ written on it.
“You’ve got it all wrong, Honey,” he complained. “That was the name of the horse I bet on on Saturday afternoon.”
His wife calmed down and apologised and all was well for the rest of the evening. The next day he came home from work and again his wife greeted him with a stinging slap across the face.
“Hey, what was that for this time?”
She said: “Your horse phoned.”