Let me hear you howl

Talking to my friend Wendy this morning, I found myself telling part of the story about Tiller, a german shepherd who lived next door to me when I lived in downtown Philadelphia off 20th and Chestnut, a lot of years ago. Tiller lived with two Siamese cats, an iguana, and his two humans, Dave and Enid.

Tiller used to howl when I played the guitar, so I wrote this piece of twelve-bar blues for him:

Howlin' Dog Blues (Tiller's Blues)

Got the howlin' blues, baby, got me howlin' like a dog.
Yeah, got them howlin' blues, sugar, you got me howlin' like a dog.
Poundin' whiskies until sundown, then I'm howlin' all night long.

(All right, let's howl)
Aa-wroooooooooooooo . . . !
Aa-wroooooooooooooo . . . !

You may have heard it; we released it on our own label in 1982. Got some local play.

Tiller and I did the clubs around town for a while, but we both knew we were headed in different directions. We played one last gig together for a charity in late 1983, and that was it. Guess we kind of drifted out of touch after that.

Last I heard about him was several years ago – a friend told me he was still doing openers as "Blind Kibble" Tiller.