The Sirens

An essay I wrote for Creative Writing this quarter.

The Sirens

Tigerlilly usually hears the sirens before I do, her long Spaniel ears perking up, her head swinging towards the front of the house and then the back, trying to determine which door to protect. Her tail swings in wide arcs, waving her black fur like a flag. Her behavior is what alerts me to the sound; I see her head cocking side to side and then my own ears begin to tune in. I probably wouldn't even notice the noon siren if she didn't hear it first, my human brain quickly and subconsciously deciding for me which sounds to filter out and which will get attention. Lilly's animal instincts still treat each new sound as an alarm, and her short memory can't retain the information that once a week, every Wednesday at noon, she hears this noise but that no danger follows.

As the sirens rise in volume, reassuring all of Columbus that they would warn us if a tornado ever threatened our homes, Lilly's high female howl raises with it. Having realized she can't find the source of the noise, Lilly simply drops her butt where she is and lifts her nose to the ceiling, commiserating with the mournful cry of the siren. I imagine Lilly using her voice to tell the other, mysterious canine that she does hear his story and joins him in his telling of it.

Briefly, Lilly glances over the room to Rosemary, lying on their pillow under the desk, to see if Rose also hears this sound and will howl with her, but the older dog has no interest. Her Cocker ears only perk now at the sound of food, although her black nub of a tail wiggles whenever I look at her. As the sirens rise again, sounding simultaneously across the city, Lilly howls along. Her cry is loud, and long, and sad. The sirens don't make me feel that way, but her howl does, reaching something inside me that perhaps is still in touch with my animal instincts after all. I go to sit next to her and comfort her, putting my arms around this puppy who somehow manages to match the volume of the city sirens from her little body.

Then Rose does rise, and comes to sit on the other side of me. Even though these sirens pose no threat, she still fills her duty as my companion. So we sit, the three of us girls living on our own in the city, on the floor of my dining room, and listen to the sound of the sirens.