Big'un was Fred's German Shepard watchdog at the body shop. Fred was a NPD cop who, like most cops, had something going on the side so he could afford the little extras in life: food, and shelter. He was a talented mechanic and auto body repairman. I sometimes worked for him in the evenings and on weekends.
Fred was a fantastic dude himself who we'll feature in another entry. This one is about Big'un, whose picture should've been on the Warning Bad Dog posters. Big, with bear-like fur, he was scarred from his encounters with just about anything that moved. He looked at you like a dieter eyes a Krispy Kreme. He was malevolent, too. Most watchdogs start barking when they hear someone trying to break into the property they're guarding. Not Big'un. He'd be deadly silent, wait for the culprit to get inside, then attack. A Big'un attack wasn't like when Granny's spoiled Schnauzer nips your ankle. Big'un could put you in the hospital.
So, I'm working alone in the repair shop one evening and Big'un is locked up in the office for my protection. This is not without great trepidation on my part. Especially, after Fred says when I leave to just unlock the office door and leave it shut. If Big'un hears an intruder later, he'll just bust the door down and get them.
I'm keeping one eye on that door, not confident that the ten-cent lock is gonna keep Big'un in there if he really wants out. Then I remember the Fred said Big'un was a music lover. And mounted on the wall is one of those 8-Track players of old, two large speakers, with a tape already inserted. What the hell, couldn't hurt. I could use a few tunes myself.
Turning it on, it's Johnny Cash. John starts rumbling his I Walk The Line. One of my favorites. I keep a close watch on this heart of mine. . .then there's this Hummmmm. What's that? That's not on the recording. I keep my eyes wide open all the. . .Hummmmm. There it was again. And it's coming from the office. And the only one in the office is Big'un.
The humming continues through the entire song, in perfect tune, and in just the right places. When the song ends, the "backup singer" quits, too. I'm dumbfounded. Must be over-tired. Didn't really hear that. Better go home, get some sleep.
The next day, I make an anxious special trip to see Fred. He's behind his desk, shuffling some papers. I can't wait to ask him: "Does Big'un sing?"
Fred looks up. "Sing? Nah." he says. "He does hum a little. But he only knows one song, I Walk The Line."
I know. I know what you're saying: He's been into that cheap booze again. But, it's all true. Think about it. Who could've made up a story this wild? Bottom line, Big'un was a baritone.
Fred was a fantastic dude himself who we'll feature in another entry. This one is about Big'un, whose picture should've been on the Warning Bad Dog posters. Big, with bear-like fur, he was scarred from his encounters with just about anything that moved. He looked at you like a dieter eyes a Krispy Kreme. He was malevolent, too. Most watchdogs start barking when they hear someone trying to break into the property they're guarding. Not Big'un. He'd be deadly silent, wait for the culprit to get inside, then attack. A Big'un attack wasn't like when Granny's spoiled Schnauzer nips your ankle. Big'un could put you in the hospital.
So, I'm working alone in the repair shop one evening and Big'un is locked up in the office for my protection. This is not without great trepidation on my part. Especially, after Fred says when I leave to just unlock the office door and leave it shut. If Big'un hears an intruder later, he'll just bust the door down and get them.
I'm keeping one eye on that door, not confident that the ten-cent lock is gonna keep Big'un in there if he really wants out. Then I remember the Fred said Big'un was a music lover. And mounted on the wall is one of those 8-Track players of old, two large speakers, with a tape already inserted. What the hell, couldn't hurt. I could use a few tunes myself.
Turning it on, it's Johnny Cash. John starts rumbling his I Walk The Line. One of my favorites. I keep a close watch on this heart of mine. . .then there's this Hummmmm. What's that? That's not on the recording. I keep my eyes wide open all the. . .Hummmmm. There it was again. And it's coming from the office. And the only one in the office is Big'un.
The humming continues through the entire song, in perfect tune, and in just the right places. When the song ends, the "backup singer" quits, too. I'm dumbfounded. Must be over-tired. Didn't really hear that. Better go home, get some sleep.
The next day, I make an anxious special trip to see Fred. He's behind his desk, shuffling some papers. I can't wait to ask him: "Does Big'un sing?"
Fred looks up. "Sing? Nah." he says. "He does hum a little. But he only knows one song, I Walk The Line."
I know. I know what you're saying: He's been into that cheap booze again. But, it's all true. Think about it. Who could've made up a story this wild? Bottom line, Big'un was a baritone.
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