Rowlf the Dog is the loveable floppy brown-eared Muppet dog who plays the piano. He is usually found in the Muppet Theater's orchestra pit. He can play in any style, from classical to honkey tonk. He often tries to upstage others by giving the keys a bang with his fist or barking out a witty remark. He also plays the silly surgeon Dr. Bob on the recurring The Muppet Show sketch Veterinarian's Hospital.
Rowlf is always cool and relaxed, and his sense of humor often revolves around his dog-like nature. He is a big fan of Ludwig van Beethoven.
Anthropomorphic, but not in a creepy way. Brown and shaggy like a familiar towel. Rowlf would always be good for ride home. So it’s late, so it’s closing, time, so what? Even if he drank, he wouldn’t drink that much, and on the way home he would stick his head out the window. Rowlf would let you have as many of his cigarettes as you needed then. He’d find something good on the radio. He’d take care of you, but he wouldn’t make a big fuss over it or screw it up like Fozzie. And he wouldn’t guilt trip you on it like the K-man. Man, being driven home by the K-man is worse than jail. And takes twice as long.
No being driven home by Rowlf the dog is alright, you’ve both got your heads out the window dragging in the night air: he’s singing a good song, you’re puking your guts out. It don’t bother Rowlf: he’s a dog. Later you’re back at his place, and you can even have a beer if you want, but if you’re too drunk to open it, he’ll gently slip it out of your hand and slide a little bowl of crisp, buoyant puppy chow in front of you, in cool, cool tap water. You’ll talk about whatever in his comfortable bachelor’s kitchen. If the paper’s there, he’ll read a bit, looking at the editorials and checking the dog track for anyone he knows. He keeps musician's hours.
Sooner or later he’ll roll out a little blanket for you on the comfy sofa. There’s a lot of dog hair on it, but so what? He’ll be sure you have a lot of water. You’ll hear him humming when he hits the can (it’s funny, because there’s a little fire hydrant in there). You’ll smile a little and it’ll be nice to drift off and only a little spinny.
Best of all, all the things that you tell Rowlf, all the stupid things you say and do, he’ll never bug you about it or mention it. And if you cry a little, or a whole lot, it’s okay, because Rowlf is brown and shaggy like a familiar towel. And he won’t be weird about it and you won’t remember. He’s been around. He knows what it’s like.
NUMBER 55, WEEK 42; WORD COUNT TO DATE: 47,126
NEXT BY 12 APRIL 2006
