129. VIDEO: Flight plan

For Gus, music does not soothe the savage breast; it scares the bejeepers out of it.  But only at first.  When he first touched the toy keyboard and a note rang out, he shot backward with an offended look on his face.  And when he first chomped on the bulb of the bike horn, he couldn’t spit it out fast enough.  Only after he recognized that his own actions control the sounds did he come to appreciate the joy of making music.  As a brand-new instrument, the hi-hat cymbals would, I knew, require a similar desensitization process.

Today I bring them in.  Immediately inquisitive, Gus approaches.  Then I gently press the pedal to bang the two cymbals softly, and Gus spooks.  His ears spring forward and he stares.  Still, this isn't his first rodeo; he’s been asked to touch a vast array of suspicious articles, and not one has bitten his face off.   So when I suggest that he touch the cymbals, he’s guardedly optimistic.  I hold them apart to prevent them making any noise.  He lips them gingerly, survives, and now gets curious again. 

As I systematically show him every inch and angle, each new aspect elicits survival-mode apprehension.  But after just one or two touches he’s ready to reclassify that aspect as unthreatening and to evaluate the next aspect: