Dawa wanted to become a respected member of the dog community in Paro. He wanted to become somebody that the others looked up to and took seriously, someone who could influence others and be recognized. But he had neither looks and stature nor the breeding and education of a leader. However, he knew that he could rely on the gift from his dead family, his voice. So he decided to work on himself.
Dawa found a wonderful quiet place on the left bank of the Paro River. Watching his reflection, he stood on the sandy bank and positioned his legs. The front paws spread easily but firmly and the weight of his body on his hind legs optimized the posture. Then he tensed his shoulders and raised his head resolutely but calmly into the air, his snout at an angle and his eyes focused on the imaginary moon. He inhaled deeply, and as he held his breath he imagined his dead family then howled as inspired by their image.
Exactly a year after he had chosen his new name and identity, he waited for the moon to rise. He watched the moon as it glided into view. Before any yelp or howl could be heard, he positioned himself and started his slow, muffled bark that flowed into a crescendo and then tipped into lingering tenor. There was a complete silence, but Dawa went on for three times, and before he could finish the third call, some dogs picked up and responded in chorus.
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