Winter According to Humphrey (9781101591222) (9 page)

I heard Grandpa chuckle.

I wasn't sure who Lulu was. Maybe Daniel had a sister.

Once we were at Daniel's house, the blanket came off my cage. Right away, I knew who Lulu was, because she started barking.

That's right—Lulu was a dog and she was barking at
me
!

She was a small dog with curly black fur. But even if she was small for a dog, she was still a lot bigger than I am, and when she barked, I could see some very white, very sharp teeth.

“Settle down, Lulu,” Grandpa Popwell told her.

She didn't settle down.

“Lulu, be nice!” Daniel said.

But Lulu wasn't nice.

“I'll put her in the den,” Daniel said, and he carried her out of sight, thank goodness.

My heart was still pounding, but once Lulu was gone, I looked around and saw that I was sitting on a table in the living room.

And right across the room was a piano! I certainly hoped that Daniel was planning on practicing all weekend.

Grandpa and Daniel went into the kitchen for a snack, so I scratched around my bedding and found a small piece of broccoli I'd stored there. I like to save bits of food in case some human forgets to feed me—but that hasn't happened yet.

When they came back to the living room, Grandpa said, “Do you have homework to do, Daniel
?
”

Daniel made a face. “It's Friday! I've been working all week. I'll do it later this weekend. Can we watch TV
?
”

“Your mother said she didn't want us watching TV all weekend,” he said. “Oh, and she said you need to practice piano for the show at school.”

“I'll practice,” Daniel said.

I was glad to hear that, because from the way he played at rehearsal, he needed
lots
of practice.

“Later,” Daniel said.

He said “later” a lot.

“Is it okay if I read for a while
?
” Daniel asked.

“Sure,” his grandfather answered. “And I'll finish that crossword puzzle I started this morning.”

I crossed my paws and hoped that when Daniel practiced “later” it wouldn't be too late!

HUMPHREY'S WINTER WONDERINGS:
If you say “later” every time you need to do something, do you ever actually get that thing done?

10

Practice Makes Perfect

W
hen we got to his room, Daniel set my cage on the dresser, pulled a book out of his backpack, then flopped down on his bed to read.

He was quiet for a long time. There wasn't much else to do, so I hopped on my wheel for a spin. That always gets my whiskers wiggling and my tail waggling.

I was concentrating so hard on wiggling and waggling that I almost fell off my wheel when Daniel suddenly said, “Yes!” I thought he was trying to encourage me, so I spun a little faster.

Daniel said, “Way to go!”

“Thanks,” I squeaked, though I have to admit I was out of breath.

“Whoa!” he said.

That surprised me so much I stopped spinning completely.

When I looked out, I saw that Daniel wasn't even looking at me. He was still reading his book.

“Humphrey, this book is the best,” he said.

Then
he finally looked over at me.

“You should read it,” he continued.

“I'd like to!” I squeaked.

I meant it, too. I would LOVE-LOVE-LOVE to read more. Does anybody write hamster-sized books
?

Daniel sat up and leaned closer to my cage. “See, this boy has a magic backpack and anything he needs comes out of it whenever he needs help. So, there's this part where another boy is bullying him and he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a cream pie! So he throws the pie in the bad guy's face. And when the bully tells the teacher, the pie and the mess magically disappear. I sure wish I had a backpack like that!”

I guess anybody would like that.

“And it can take you places. You put it on and think of a place you want to go and—whoosh—you're there,” he said.

That got my brain spinning. I imagined being in my cage and putting on a magic backpack and—whoosh—I'd be on top of Mount Everest (although it would be a little cold there for a hamster). Or I'd be surfing on the Pacific Ocean (although it would be a little wet there for a hamster). I could be on the streets of a big, bustling city (although it would be a little dangerous there for a hamster).

Maybe a magic backpack wasn't such a great idea after all, at least for a small creature like me. But that cream pie sounded YUMMY-YUMMY-YUMMY!

I glanced over at Daniel and could see that his mind was miles away.

“Boy, if I had that magic backpack, when it was time to practice piano, I could put it on and fly to an amusement park,” he said.

“Don't you like playing piano
?
” I asked, wishing that he could understand.

“I like the piano,” Daniel said. “But every time I practice, I make so many mistakes, it sounds awful. That's why I don't like to practice.”

I saw his point, but I also thought that if you don't practice something, you'll never, ever get better at it. There was no use trying to explain that to Daniel, though. I knew that all he'd hear would be squeaks.

Daniel stared at the cover of the book. “This D. D. Denby is a genius,” he said. “Imagine writing a book like this.”

Then he opened the book again and leaned back on his pillow. “I've got to find out what happens next.”

Reading is great, but it's not too interesting to
watch
someone read. So I hopped back on my wheel and did some more spinning. I went faster and faster and faster until I suddenly screeched to a stop.

My brain was still spinning, though, because I had an idea. What if there was a story about a hamster who had a magic wheel
?
He could spin that wheel and go anywhere he wanted! Now, that was a story I'd like to read in a book. I got so caught up thinking about that idea, I didn't notice that it had gotten dark. Daniel had turned on the lamp by his bed.

He suddenly closed the book and sat up. “That's it!” he said. “Finished.”

He stared down at the cover. “I sure wish I had a magic backpack to help me get out of playing piano at school,” he sighed.

“But you don't!” I squeaked. “So you need to practice.”

Daniel read the back of the book's cover. “There are five more magic backpack books,” he said. “I hope I get the next one for Christmas.”

Just then, Grandpa Popwell came into the room. “It's awfully quiet,” he said. “I thought maybe you'd fallen asleep.” Then he chuckled. “I guess maybe I dozed off myself. So, how about showing me what a great piano player you are
?
”

“I'm hungry,” Daniel said. “Can we do it later
?
”

“I'll tell you what,” Grandpa said. “You play a song for me now and then we can eat.”

Daniel wrinkled his nose. “Just
one
song
?
”

Grandpa agreed.

They started out the door, but Grandpa came back for my cage. “I bet you don't want to miss this. Do you, Humphrey
?
” he said.

He was RIGHT-RIGHT-RIGHT. But I was prepared to dive under my bedding if Daniel's playing sounded as terrible as it had at school.

Back in the living room, Grandpa put my cage right on top of the piano so I had a hamster's-eye view of the keys. I was unsqueakably thankful!

Daniel sat down on the piano bench, opened a piece of music and began to play.

I was expecting to hear “Jingle Bells,” but instead he played another song. I knew that song, too. It's called “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

I was sorry that Daniel wasn't practicing “Jingle Bells,” but at least he hit the right notes for “Twinkle, Twinkle.”

Grandpa clapped when Daniel finished. “Well done,” he said. “But wasn't that a song you played when you first started lessons
?
”

Daniel nodded.

“I'd like to hear one of your new songs. I think your mom said something about you playing ‘Jingle Bells,'” his grandfather said.

“But you said I just had to play one song,” Daniel told him. “You didn't say which song to play. And I'm
so
hungry!”

“Play it one time through and we'll eat,” Grandpa said.

Daniel grumbled under his breath, but he found the music and set it on the piano, right by my cage.

“It's pretty hard,” he complained.

“Practice makes perfect,” Grandpa said. “Try it.”

Daniel tried, I guess.

He even hit
some
of the right notes.

But he hit a lot of wrong notes, too.

When Ms. Lark played “Jingle Bells,” I could almost see the prancing horses and a sleigh gliding through the snow.

When Daniel played “Jingle Bells,” I could see horses tripping on the snow and a sleigh caught in a snowdrift!

“See
?
I told you I can't play it,” Daniel said when he was finished.

“Sure, you can play it,” his grandfather told him. “All you need is practice.”

Daniel patted his tummy. “But I'm starving!”

Grandpa chuckled. “Okay. Let's eat.”

He and Daniel went into the kitchen, leaving me in my cage on the piano.

While good smells started coming out of the kitchen, I stared down at the keys. I wasn't sure how they worked. There was a piece of paper propped up above the keys. But the paper didn't have words on it—only lines and dots. Somehow, those showed people what keys to push. And when a person pushed the keys, sounds came out.

When Ms. Lark pushed the keys, the music sounded good.

When Daniel pushed the keys, the music sounded bad. At least when he played “Jingle Bells.”

I thought of how the song goes. “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way.”

SQUEAK-SQUEAK SQUEAK. SQUEAK-SQUEAK SQUEAK.

That part didn't seem too difficult, if you could find the right key and hit it three times, then three times again.

And what was the next part
?
“Jingle all the way.”

Or, as I imagined it in my head: SQUEAK-SQUEAK
SQUEAK
SQUEAK SQUEAK.

That time, you played the same note as the first part once, then three other notes, then ended up on the note where you started!

SQUEAK-SQUEAK
SQUEAK
SQUEAK SQUEAK.The first note, then a note that was higher, two notes that were lower, then back to the first note.

If only I had a way to get on that keyboard, I thought I could play those notes.

Then I might be the only piano-playing hamster in the world!

But I wouldn't want to get caught out of my cage. For one thing, there was always the possibility that Lulu would get out of the den and come straight for me.

And even if I survived Lulu, there was the possibility that Grandpa Popwell would change my lock-that-doesn't-lock and I'd be stuck in my cage forever!

So I stayed in my cage and thought and thought and thought some more, until I knew “Jingle Bells” so well, it was almost a part of me.

After dinner, Daniel and his grandpa came back in the living room.

“Let's give Lulu a break and take her for a walk,” Grandpa said.

That was fine with me, as long as she didn't walk close to my cage!

“Now
?
” Daniel asked. “It's cold out.”

“We'll bundle up,” Grandpa said. “Lulu needs the exercise. Come to think of it, so do we, after all that chili.”

Soon, Daniel and Grandpa Popwell were wearing coats and hats, gloves and scarves. Then they went into the den and came out with Lulu. Luckily she was on a leash. And she was actually wearing a
sweater,
which seemed strange to me.

She barked at me, of course, but Daniel took her outside while Grandpa locked the front door.

“We'll see you later, Humphrey,” he said as they left.

“Bye!” I squeaked back. “Don't hurry back!”

And there I was. No Lulu, no humans, just me and the piano.

HUMPHREY'S WINTER WONDERINGS:
I wonder why a dog needs a sweater when she already has a fur coat?