My Puppy Sings the Blues
Ar-aroooooooo! Chester’s sad howl fills the room. Chester is our new puppy. He’s only six months old, but his howl is louder than the song I am playing on the piano. He points his puppy head up so high that I can see the white fur on his chin.
Ar-aroooooooo! he howls.
“Chester, this is a happy song,” I say. “How about a happy bark?”
I begin playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” again.
Ar-aroooooooo!
Chester howls every time I practice the piano. He also howls when he sees squirrels outside our living-room window. He howls when I leave the house. He howls when the mail carrier comes. In fact, he howls all the time.
It is always a long, sad howl. His howl sounds like crying. I wonder what
makes
him so sad.
“Come on, Chester. Let’s take a walk,” I say.
Chester has been at our house a week, and he already knows what the word “walk” means. Chester wags his tail and licks my hand.
I tell Mom we’re going to walk around the block. Then I get Chester’s leash out of the closet. He wags his tail even harder.
When we get to the porch, Chester sees a bird on our bird feeder.
Ar-aroooooooo! he howls. He must not like birds.
We walk down the street and see my neighbor Mrs. Grant in her yard. She is playing with her dog, Friskie.
Ruff-ruff-ruff-ruff-ruff, says Friskie. He has a silly bark. It sounds like laughing.
Ar-aroooooooo! Chester says sadly. He must not like Friskie.
Down the block, Mr. Rodriguez is walking with his dog, Pepper.
Yip-yip-yip-yip, says Pepper. She has a cheery bark. It sounds like a ringing telephone.
Ar-aroooooooo! Chester howls. He
must not like Pepper either.
We’re nearly home again when I see a moving van in front of the house where Mr. and Mrs. Jackson used to live. They moved away a month ago, along with their dog, Nellie.
Ar-aroooooooo, says a dog, but it’s not Chester. The howl is much deeper than Chester’s.
I see a dog come from behind the moving van, along with a girl.
Ar-aroooooooo, Chester howls in his high puppy voice.
The girl waves, so Chester and I walk over.
“Hi! I’m Laura, and this is Jessie,” she says, pointing to her dog. He looks just like Chester but bigger. “You have a beagle, too, huh? Don’t you love his howl?”
I look down at Chester. His eyes are wide. His tail is wagging. He doesn’t look unhappy. Maybe his howl is just his way of saying hello and good-bye and everything else.
“Yes, I do love his howl,” I say. “By the way, I’m Autumn, and this is Chester.”
Chester and Jessie point their heads to the sky.
Ar-aroooooooo!
