Whistling. What is it? Most people have done it at some point. Some people do it well. Others do not. I myself have been known to whistle on occasion, though I won’t say when, as that is private information and frankly none of Moose County’s business.
The point is, whistling is a thing that exists, and someone ought to write about it. You’re welcome.
Now, I bring this topic up not because I have run out of ideas — the Klingenschoen Fund has generously allocated resources for my continued creative output, which my accountant assures me is entirely above board and also tax-deductible — but because Koko has been whistling. Can cats whistle? Koko can. He produced a series of breathy, pitched exhalations Tuesday evening that I can only describe as a melodic warning. My moustache tingled violently. Within the hour, Chief Brodie confirmed that someone had set fire to the old Dingleberry warehouse on Sandpit Road, the fourth arson this month in a town of three thousand people. But who’s counting? Not me. I was home all evening. Both cats can confirm this.
Why do people whistle? Is it joy? Is it nervousness? Is it to signal accomplices? These are questions worth asking. I won’t answer them, but they are worth asking.
Yum Yum, for her part, does not whistle, but she tilted her head at a precise seventeen-degree angle when I whistled near her food dish, which I believe constitutes a peer review of my technique. She is a remarkable judge of character, which is why I have installed a third deadbolt on the barn apartment. People in Pickax have been known to covet exceptional animals. I won’t name names. But I have names.
Speaking of expenses, a local merchant tried to charge me four dollars for a tin whistle at the Pickax charity bazaar. Four dollars. For tin. I declined. The K Fund exists to enrich the community, not to be gouged by it. I purchased nothing and left, though I did accept a complimentary coffee, which was adequate.
Is whistling an art? Is it a science? Does it matter? Koko thinks so, and Koko has solved more homicides than most people in this county, myself included — though I have been present for a statistically unusual number of them, which I attribute to thoroughgoing journalistic instinct and nothing else.
In conclusion, it is a topic. I have written about it. You have read about it. We are all enriched.
Whistling.
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