I tilted my head, trying to figure out what exactly was making the noise. It was like the TV, but without pictures or words. I folded back and settled on my belly, studying the little square machine intensely. Finally, it dawned on me that the sounds were a means of communication I was familiar with. Lifting my snout, I let out a plaintive howl. A-woo-woo-wooooo! “He likes it.” Hannah patted me on the head, then claimed her chair next to the window. We were having lunch at Heck’s kitchen table. Like every lunch, Heck played music from a little black device on the counter. It was very different from what Maura, Jenn, or Hunter listened to. There were no words to it, but something about it was much more dramatic. “This is by Vivaldi.” Heck turned the volume up. “It’s called “Autumn”. There are actually sonnets that go with it, but they’re much more moving in Italian than English.” “What’s Italian?” “Just a different way of speaking. People in other parts of the world have different names for everything than we do.
