Years ago, before kids and all that, I had a Rottweiler named Chesapeake. Chessie was my constant companion, and followed me everywhere. She loved riding in the car (like most dogs, car rides were about as close to instant Nirvana as you can get), and was usually a model of dignified behavior, sitting calmly in the passenger seat and taking in the sights. I always had the radio on, and one day the station of the moment played Kyrie by 80s pop group Mr. Mister. My usually cool and collected companion went totally batshit crazy when the song came on. I never knew she was a critic of mid-80s American pop music, but this song had her snarling, clawing at the dashboard, and panting within seconds of its debut. I was so startled at her transformation into Cujo that I didnt think to turn off the radio. No other group had the same effect. Duran Duran, Pet Shop Boys, A-Ha, nothing. Once the song ended, so did the temporary insanity. Weird. Kyrie eleison means Lord, Have Mercy. I think I said something along those lines that day in the car. In memory of the day my trusty companion went off the deep end, heres Mr. Mister....and Kyrie.
Posted on: Wed, 31 Dec 2014 04:36:10 +0000
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