To Barry

Picture randomly found online from:
https://pixels.com/featured/marino-cane-corso-james-bateman.html

Barry was our customer's doggie, the size of a baby bear. She was my tuning maid once every 6 months, very patient listener, piano technician's tool inspector, and baby wipe muncher. 

The first time I came to the house, Barry greeted me with a very loud and powerful first floor run around. It took him quite a while to calm down. I was worried that he would howl during the piano tuning like lots of doggies. Nope, he was a gentleman, very well-mannered, only to try to fall asleep under the piano, right under the soundboard where it was the loudest. When the tuning went to the bass section, it could be too loud that he would silently walk himself to his doggie bed or just behind the piano bench and keep sleeping right there, spread all out like a puddle. 

If I had my tool pouch open, he would definitely poke through each tool, big and small, to check out their condition and functionality. Sometimes he picked one up, dragged it somewhere to study how it was used in the piano, or not. But mostly he was trying to figure out if it was munchable. If the whole tool bag was open, he would try to fit his bear cub sized head in it and sniff if anything was dangerous to the tuner or maybe something also could be place in his mouth. The most delightful thingy for him to munch on was baby wipes. Once, I had to be "abusive" to chase him around the perimeter of the room and get the possibly alcohol free, fragrance free, hypoallergic, and flushable wipes out of his mouth, half chewed, and feel sorry for him afterwards. Oh, it was assumed that the house owner who was working upstairs didn't hear anything. 

The piano was tuned every 6 month. I felt fortunate to hangout with him twice a year. One time, he was not there when I got in the house. Where was Barry? He was a old boy. Would I not able to see him again? I was wondering and worried through the tuning until the house owner opened the door to let him in, neck wrapped in a huge cone. Thank goodness he came back. I was not ready to loose my best tuning friend, yet. Each time coming over, I grew more grateful to see him one more time. There could be a time, in a sudden, he won't be with us anymore.

Of course. A few days ago, the piano was scheduled to be tuned. I was imagining how Barry would sleep right there behind the piano bench. I got myself ready to hide the baby wipes after the keys were cleaned. I was ready for Barry's whole floor run around. The young pianist opened the door and let me in. There was no run around. There was Barry's buddy and a new puppy. The very kind pianist gave permission to say hi to the two of them. "Where is Barry?" I had my eyes wide open out of curiosity. He said something, for some reason, I didn't hear.

The tuning started. Maybe Barry left us to a better doggie world. Just maybe. Maybe he was at the vet getting a cone put on his neck for some infections, the crunchy crunchy sounding cones. I was trying not to let any emotion affect the tuning service. Be professional!

Before the temperament in the middle section was finished. I saw a delicate brown box sitting on the couch right next to the piano bench where Barry usually relaxed himself on. Around the box was his collar with "Barry" quilted on. 

Here he is, sitting on the couch, watching the piano being tuned, inspecting if any note is not to his standard. Here he is, relaxing so quietly but surely bored of the tuner playing each note a million times to get it sort of right. Here he is seeking a piece or two of baby wipes to munch on, has to be alcohol free, fragrance free, hypoallergic, and flushable. 

Here I am, hunching over the piano trying to tune while the eyes kept being filled with liquid running down like a waterfall. Here I am restricting myself not to shiver or sob, just focus on the tuning, not to let the young pianist be upset of a half in-tune instrument. Here I am wiping face at the speed of a magician poker player, a whole package worth of loose baby wipes flying all over. 

​... ...

Ok Barry, let's make a deal. You be happy wherever you are and protect your house and family. You keep them out of danger and negativity. I will still visit you every 6 months if the boss lets me. I will give the best tuning service one can give. Let's make it a deal. It's a deal.

​Love you! Lots and lots.