On early mornings.

This neighborhood makes an early start.

First, the buses (the 21A starts at 4:14 a.m.), then the newspaper deliveries, then my counterparts and their humans, then - around 6 a.m. - The Whistler.

A few times each month, The Whistler stands at the bus stop across from our house, under an old lamppost. In the early morning light, his graceful movements (Tai Chi, I think) capture me as I watch from our upstairs window. Next comes the music.The Whistler's songs float through our window, sometimes waking my humans before the alarm clock (awful sounding thing). My personal favorite is "Beautiful Dreamer," but he has a few other selections as well.

I don't know much about The Whistler. I know that he is tall, rides the bus, wears a small, multicolored fez. I also know that he has the power to set the tone (no pun intended) of my humans' day.

I love whistling, but not everyone does. As it turns out, there are superstitions around whistling:

- Whistling in theater is considered unlucky. Before electronic communication, sailors worked as stage hands to manage the rope systems used for on stage flight. Coded whistles were used to call cues. Whistling on stage could cause an early cue and bring bad luck in the performance.
- In Russia and other Slavic cultures, whistling indoors is said to bring poverty ("whistling money away"). It is OK to whistle indoors.
- In Serbia, whistling indoors is thought to bring mice. (Like the Pied Piper, I suppose.)

Get over it.

In my neighborhood, whistling signifies the start of a day. It shows that one person can make a difference. It costs nothing and doesn't take a lot of training--although I suspect The Whistler spends plenty of time practicing. Of course, there are ways to turn this into a really big deal. You can join the "International Artwhistling Philharmonic Society" (yes, this exists), attend the "International Whistlers Forum" (2009, North Carolina), or even participate in "Orawhistle" - an online whistlers forum.

That seems like a lot of work. My advice to you is this:

Whistle. Whistle at your bus stop. Whistle while you work (if it's good enough for seven dwarfs it's good enough for you). Or, better yet, if whistling doesn't toot your horn, do something else for your neighborhood. Plant a flower. Pick up trash. Get to know your neighbors.

Think globally, whistle locally.

If you find yourself on Selby Avenue some morning, just east of Dale Street, be quiet. Listen for The Whistler. Let him be a lesson to all of us.

Until next time, I'm Selby and I'll be Beautiful Dreaming on the avenue.

On being a dog.

It’s interesting, this being a dog.

On one hand, we’re “man’s best friend” (pardon the gender reference). Who wouldn’t want this? A best friend who is fed and housed and exercised and, if you’re lucky like me, scratched and cuddled every day by three kids.

On the other hand, there’s a lot of negative connotation out there: going to the dogs, dog tired, doggy bag (never shared with me), dog’s dinner, dog eat dog (not even true – only the occasional sniff) and, my personal favorite, a dog’s life. Check this out:

dog's life. n. Slang. A miserably unhappy existence. This expression was first recorded in a 16th-century manuscript and alludes to the miserable subservient existence of dogs during this era. By the 1660s there was a proverb: "It's a dog's life, hunger and ease."

Are you kidding me? Let’s do a short comparison. Today, I strolled down the avenue sharing my name, chased squirrels, ate food, slept, and repeated the loop. Multiple times.

My human got up extra early to walk me, fed me, spent a whole bunch of time answering emails and grumbling, put on uncomfortable clothing, rushed out of the house so as not to miss the bus, spent a lot of hours in an office building, came home, made dinner, fed me again, walked me again, did laundry, then went to sleep.

I ask you: Who is the dog?

St. Paul-ites, summer is approaching and I want to see some changes. Here are my tips for having a dog’s life of a summer:

1) Explore your neighborhood. I find it fascinating to do this with my nose about ½ inch off the ground, but follow your own particular style.
2) Meet a neighbor. Sniffing each other’s backside is completely optional.
3) Take a nap. I don’t want to hear “but, I have to work.” It’s not that interesting anyway, and you know it. Just take a nap.
4) Chase a squirrel. Seriously. They are a nuisance and deserve to be chased.
5) Eat some food. I enjoy “Newman’s Own” but I also understand that there are some pretty fantastic restaurants in this town. Enjoy them. (Don’t pretend the doggy bag is for your dog.)
6) Repeat the loop. Multiple times.

Have a dog’s life, people. Until next time, I’m Selby, and I’ll just be repeating the loop. See you on the avenue.