OUR HOUSEHOLD IS MUSICAL. We listen to music. We play music. There are eight, stringed instruments hanging on two walls in our house. The ninth and newest stringed instrument—a ukulele—isn’t hanging, yet because we don’t know where to put it. We even have a music studio.
It turned out that Watson was a music lover, too. This is not to say that he was a discriminating music lover. He just loved listening to any kind of music. Music on the radio. Musical soundtracks during movies. Background music during computer games. All of it was good!
But he especially loved listening to live music. Anytime a guitar came out, whether played by one of his persons or a guitar student, he would trot into the room, lay down, and happily lie with his head on his paws, taking it all in.
To Watson, it seemed the effort of trying to make music counted more than whether the maker of the music was satisfied with it.
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