Lungs

It’s a fact, I overhear my mistress saying. It’s a fact that little ones who have not been around for a very long time – whatever time is –  have short memories. I don’t know whether that is right – or even a bit condescending – but the fact is: I barked at him. He’d been out for a while and came in with one of those big shopping bags that make an awful rustling, scraping noise.

We who have not been around a long time don’t like rustling, scraping noises.

So, I do what comes naturally: I fill my lungs and gave him a two-lung bark. Yow-wow-wow. I think I scare him because he puts his bag down, sits on the carpet, and then I run really, really fast towards him and jump up at his chest, front paws first, and chew his nose. Wow, he shrieks.

Ha ha! We can both say Wow now. It’s a game with a lot of promise.

I am discovering something. Well, actually a lot of things.

There are degrees of barking.

From the light yelp (help!) to woof (stay away) to a yowl (please don’t leave me alone) to a full throated, full lunged howl either to frighten or to warn. One thing is for sure: I need to practice.

And I will.