"If I had a dog, I would not pay for it to have guitar lessons. There is little or no precedent."

Well now, ya just never know. I got to talking to this fellow in a bar, and he was feeling a little guilty. I asked him what about, and he told me the following story:

It seems that earlier that evening he was sitting next to a guy at the bar when he reached into his pocket and took out a tiny grand piano and piano bench and set them on the bar. Then he reached into his pocket again and brought forth a mouse. Not just any mouse. This mouse was wearing a tuxedo. The mouse sat down on the piano bench and proceeded to play—Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt. . . . The fellow next to him sat there in amazement. Then the first fellow reaches into his pocket again and sets a canary down by the tiny piano. The canary was wearing an evening gown. The canary started singing. She sang arias by Puccini, Verdi, Bellini, and Rossini, then several Schubert lied.

The man says, "That's amazing! You must be making a fortune with them!"

"No, they just entertain me at home. Actually, they're for sale."

"For sale? How much do you want for them?"

"Oh, I dunno. Twenty bucks?"

The second fellow sat there in amaze, his mouth open. "Twenty bucks? Just twenty bucks?"

"Yeah."

"Sold!" the fellow sez, proceeds to fork over a twenty-dollar bill, and walks out with the mouse, the canary, and the piano, saying, "I'm gonna take this on the road and make a fortune!"

"That," the guy said to me, "is why I feel guilty. I cheated that poor sap."

"Cheated him!??" sez I. "How do you figure you cheated him?"

"Well," he sez to me, "that stupid canary can't sing a note. The mouse is a ventriloquist!"

So, a dog that can play the guitar. . . .

Don Firth