Caruso was the runt of the litter, but his cries those first few nights were deafening. Mother said he needed to learn to behave and forbade me from comforting him. She would play her favorite old opera records to help drown out the wailing and help ease our guilty ears.
Caruso eventually stopped crying, but every time Mother played her records he would howl along with the music. I would join in and hum along, annoying Mother to no end.
As college approached, Caruso’s old eyes told me he knew I was leaving soon. The morning I left, I played Mother’s records one last time. His tail wagged as we performed a duet, howling and humming. He wasn’t there when I returned home the next summer.
Last night we laid my mother to rest. After the service, I played her records for the first time in thirty years. The humming helped ease the pain constricting my throat.