Bay

There's a bloodhound that lives within half a mile of my house, which means that sometimes I know when he's throwing back his head and letting his ears flop around as he lets loose that noise from the deepest part of his chest that only bloodhounds can make. The sun is bright, but with a rim of clouds on the horizon that lets me know we live in Pittsburgh and a storm will break at any moment. The rest of the dogs on the block go wild after just one bay from the hound, and they try as hard as they can to get that long-wave sound to happen.

I imagine him trotting back into the house, satisfied with sending everyone into a frothing rage with just one bellow, and going back to sleep.

25 April 2014 12:14