Go, Dog. Go!, the kids book by P.D. Eastman, is, and has long been, a Herman family favorite. I’ve read that book to my three sons, and now all my grandsons, at least 9,000 times:
. . . look where those dogs are going! To the tree! To the tree! Up the tree! Up the tree! Up they go to the top of the tree. Why? Will they work there? Will they play there? What is up there on top of that tree? A dog party! A big dog party! Big dogs, little dogs, red dogs, blue dogs, yellow dogs, green dogs, black dogs and white dogs are all at a dog party!
The Pied Piper of Hamelin is a German legend that is not a Herman family favorite. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if none of my sons knows the story. It dates back to the Middle Ages (when they think I was born), and features a piper hired to lure away the town’s rats with his magic pipe. Later, when the citizens of Hamelin try to stiff him on the fee, he lures their children away with that same magic pipe — as revenge.
I’ve noticed in Kemba — in fact, in all the neighborhood dogs — a behavior similar to both P.D. Eastman’s dogs (being mysteriously drawn en masse to that tree) and to the rats and kids of Hamelin (being enticed by the sound of the magic pipe). At a certain point in the afternoon — usually around 2 o’clock — all the tails start wagging furiously, and all the dogs start straining hard in the same direction. Us humans? We look . . . and see absolutely nothing. It’s actually kind of spooky.
Then we turn the corner, and there’s our answer — in white, red, and blue: the mail truck! And The Friendly Mailman! Because (duh) The Friendly Mailman gives them biscuits! Pretty damn good biscuits, I have to assume, judging by his rock star popularity. (Sorry, I can’t divulge the name of this particular mailman; I’ve been told he could get in trouble for handing out treats. See “The Kindness of Strangers,” a post from 2019.)
But how did all the dogs know he was there long before any of us humans saw him? “Oh, they hear me,” The Friendly Mailman explained, when I asked. “They recognize the sound of my truck. You better believe it!”
Now, when Kemba starts tugging at the leash and pulling my arm out of its socket for no apparent reason, I get it. He hears the sweet serenade of the Pied Piper of Westport.
YOU CAN ALSO FOLLOW BEAGLE MAN, KEMBA, AND RICKY ON FACEBOOK AND INSTAGRAM.
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