Woof woof! There I go again, practising my scales. No matter how often I am told to go outside and play with my toys, I have to keep practising. How else will I become a brilliant soprano?
You see, It’s my dream to be a famous diva soprano, touring the world singing the great roles: Mimi, Gilda, the Countess… just imagine what it would be like to command a full house with nothing but the beauty and elegance of my voice! Could there be anything greater? Sometimes I get so caught up in my dreams of stardom I forget to chew on my bone, even though it’s right in front of me.
There’s just one problem with my dream, one little thing that may prevent me from ever taking to the stage at La Scala or Covent Garden and wowing audiences with my heart-rending musicality: I am a dog.
Sometimes when I am sitting in my little doghouse wagging my tail and waiting for Man to come home, I forget that I am just a dog. I’ll be sitting there practising my heart out, lifting my soft palate and keeping a watchful eye on my support, only to realise that I’m actually just keeping a watchful eye on the neighbour’s cat, not my support. That’s what you get when you are a dog.
All too often I spend hours learning a role, studying the score deeply and planning my every move on stage ready to impress the director, only to discover at the first rehearsal that my canine fangs completely get in the way of my Italian diction. I may as well just be snarling at the audience.
Sure, my friends try to support me with positive words of encouragement and affirmation, but it has gotten to the point where I just have to say, “they won’t let me be a singer, and that’s because I am a dog!” They don’t know what to say to that; it’s just the honest truth.