Ruffly Speaking

something like twelve in a row, and then I really did it. One of them must’ve whistled itself dry, and then, well, it didn’t actually go up in flames, but the fumes set off the smoke detector, and, meanwhile, I was in my office merrily working away, and by the time Matthew got home, the teakettle had melted —well, melded, really—into the element on the stove. And also, before Ruffly, I was managing talking on the phone, but the problem was knowing when it was ringing. If I didn’t have my aids in, forget it, but the rest of the time, we had this bell rigged up that was so loud that it drove Matthew crazy. And the other thing was sirens.” I must have looked puzzled.
    “Fire engines,” Stephanie explained. “Ambulances. That’ s one of Ruffly’s sounds. Sirens. When I’m driving, he sits next to me, and when there’s a siren, he puts his Paw on my shoulder, and I know to look around and pull over.”
    I asked for Ruffly’s life story. Stephanie had mentioned lip-reading, and that’s probably the main reason s he watched my face, but my knowledge of the practical Purpose didn’t spoil the flattering effect. She’d had Ruffly, her first hearing dog, for a little more than a year. He’d been rescued from a pound and intensively trained in basic obedience and in his specialty by the agency that had placed him with Stephanie. His exact age was unknown, but he was somewhere around three. “But we celebrate his birthday nonetheless,” she said. For the first time, Stephanie looked a little unsure of herself.
    “Yes?”
    “It’s ridiculous. Really, it started as a joke. Well, I might as well say it. If it’s too corny, just don’t use it.”
    I told the truth. “The chances of anything being too corny for Dog’s Life are pretty slim.”
    “July Fourth,” Stephanie said abruptly. “That’s Ruffly’s birthday.” She paused. I was too slow for her. Before I caught up, she said, “Independence Day. Is that too much?”
    I smiled. “My editor will love it.”
    “Actually, though, last year was his first year with me, and I didn’t think it out, and the choice proved a disaster. The problem was the fireworks. I was stupid enough to take him out, and, believe me, it was no hearing dog’s idea of a holiday. I assume this year will be better, at least right here.”
    I said, “He might hear something in the distance. There are fireworks on the Esplanade, and he’ll probably catch a little of The 1812 Overture. It’s at the Hatch Shell, in Boston, on the other side of the river, and it must be a couple of miles from here. It should be all right.”
    Stephanie shrugged. “Let’s hope so. Ruffly gets thrown easily these days. The move has been hard on him, I suppose, or that’s what they keep telling me. First we moved from the city, in April, and then here, just a couple of weeks ago, and the agency where I got Ruffly has been wonderful, but all they say is that it’s the transition. Let him get used to the new house, and he’ll settle down.”
    Ruffly, who’d settled peacefully on the floor at Stephanie’s feet, looked perfectly at home, at least to me, but Stephanie’s face was worried.
    “That makes sense,” I told her. “I suppose it takes him a while to figure out what’s just background noise he can ignore, and what’s new, something he has to tell you about.”
    “Exactly. That’s what they keep saying. And Ruffly is still working his sounds, the phone, the door. I burned some toast the other day and set off the smoke detector in the kitchen, and Ruffly certainly didn’t miss that! If he weren’t doing his work, everyone would be really worried, but he is. The problem is... Well, one problem is that he’s apprehensive. It’s hard to describe, but working with a hearing dog, you really do become part of each other.”
    For the first time ever, it occurred to me there were people who felt even closer to their dogs than I did to mine.
    Stephanie continued. “And a lot of people don’t understand. They think, oh, the dog’s trained to do this list of specific things. Listen for the phone, whatever. But it’s a lot more complicated than that, because, yes, Ruffly knows his sounds—the phone, the teakettle—but it’s impossible to train a dog to listen for every single sound that you might need to know about, and it’s unnecessary, because listening is exactly what a hearing dog does. But what makes the whole thing work is that you respond. He listens, I watch him,