New Tricks

Thank goodness it was a lovely day for a road trip, Christina thought. She was bringing her four dogs to be boarded for two weeks while she went on a long-planned cruise to the Bahamas with a group of friends. She was beginning to feel some anxiety about parting from her canine companions, even though she'd done this once before, and she trusted the boarding kennel.

The dogs, all Springer Spaniels, were named Allegro, Adante, Scherzo, and Sonata. They fit perfectly into the back seat of Christina’s SUV, and seemed happy to be there. Adante, the brown-faced guy, remained standing; the other three lay on the seat with paws hanging over the edge, tongues lolling. They were all from the same litter, and were five years old now, not as rambunctious as they’d been when puppies. Christina had some treats in a bag that she planned to distribute randomly by tossing them into the back during the hour's drive to Capitol Canine Club in McLean. Christina had secured the canines by running the seatbelts through their harnesses; they were used to this. Oh, she loved their ears, all eight of them, giving them all a last-minute fondle before heading off.

After about twenty minutes on the highway, the day that had started out sunny became cloudy; and a few droplets of rain appeared on the windshield. Christina focused harder on the road immediately ahead. Her sense of fun was replaced by tension. She breathed deeply, trying to be as relaxed as the dogs had seemed, but a quick glance in the rear view mirror revealed that all four were standing up on the seat. Jeez, she thought. We’re all uptight here! Then she heard a strange humming sound, in four different pitches. She looked for big trucks nearby; sometimes their presence was noisy like that.

No trucks in sight, but emanating from the back seat was the beginning of “Wait ’Til the Sun Shines, Nellie,” in perfect four-part harmony. The highest part was being sung by a female voice. It must be Sonata, the only girl-dog. There was construction on the road now, and Christina didn’t dare move her eyes to the mirror again. The song flowed on to a bass solo part. The lyrics slowly and meticulously described a rainstorm and a cancelled picnic, but then the full quartet joined in for the upbeat ending chorus, and at that moment, the sun returned and the road emerged from the construction area. Which one of the three boys had sung that solo? Could she ask them?

Now they’d segued into a number that kept repeating, “Let’s talk about my sweetie,” a happy, boasting lyric. She was enjoying the harmony, but was still afraid to check the rear view mirror, this time because she suspected she would not see the dogs singing, but just standing there, and that would prove that she was in a dream state and shouldn’t be driving— or merely crazy— which was something she’d never, ever considered herself to be.

They were just a few minutes from the McLean exit. The song from the back seat had concluded beautifully with extended, rolling up-and-down harmonics, as barbershop quartet-style songs do, but that was probably all she was going to get today, Christina supposed.

By the time she had pulled into the parking lot of Capitol Canine Club and started unthreading the seatbelts from the dogs’ harnesses, they were again lying down, even Adante, and seemed reluctant to disembark. Christina waved the bag of treats, which caught their attention. “It was you singing that bass solo, wasn’t it?” she whispered to Scherzo, the fatty of the group, as he tumbled out, followed by the rest. A staffer had appeared to take their leashes and escort them away, but Scherzo turned and smiled at her knowingly. She would miss them so!

— Macoff