White Dog and the members of The White Dog Army sat before me. They waited for my attention and explained that they had something to share. "We know it is Opera night, Momma," Bella said. "So we are going to sing to you in the language of our people," YoYoMa continued. "This is our Song of Lament," White Dog concluded and then cued the chorus. The White Dog Army sang with full rich poignant voices...
It is one hundred and two
What are we to do?
We are tired of napping
And of Sachi's yapping.
The cool treats were nice
and so was the ice,
But we melt when outside
From the heat we can't hide.
Even the cooler's not evaporating enough.
The sweat on dad's forehead freely drips on our ruffs.
Whining in rhyme
Just helps pass the time
We fear there's no cure
We just must endure.
Maybe momma nature our plea will hear
and send lower temps to us White Ones so dear.
As they held the final notes the White Dog Army lay down, heads on paws, and looked skyward in unison with their deep dark eyes. It was compelling.
"BRAVO!" I shouted. "Bravo, bellisimo!"