Our old and saddly departed Golden Retriever named Schooner was a truly a wonder of a dog. He was deaf to most entreaties but was in the kitchen at the fall of a souffle. He could hear a marshmallow being eaten to yards away and some how was able to deduce where you might be planning to go and fall asleep in the doorway between you and your destination.

After a hand inury when I coudn't play anything with strings I took up the harmonica again. The sound of the reeds would make Schooner whimper and cringe. Being the considerate soul I'd move away from him to a diferent room. Schooner would get up and follow and lay down at my feet and whimper some more. As the fingers got better my ambitions got larger. A button Accordion. Schooner followed the same routine. Only louder.

I image he was pleased when I was to play strings again.

Don