Happiness According to Humphrey

1
The Lost Notes
Nights in Room 26 are quiet. And very long.
When I first came to Longfellow School as a classroom pet, I was lonely when Mrs. Brisbane and my fellow students weren’t around. Lonely, and a little scared. The sound of the clock ticking was unsqueakably loud. The floors groaned and creaked. Sometimes the wind shook the windows. And the first time I heard the RATTLE-­RATTLE-­RATTLE coming toward the room, my nerves were rattled, too.
It was different once I got used to all of the noises. And now I also enjoy the splashing and twanging sounds coming from the tank of my fellow classroom pet, Og. He’s a frog.
The rattling sounds don’t scare me anymore because I know they mean Aldo, the custodian, is on his way to clean our classroom. The room is always cheerier when Aldo is in it.
And there it was! RATTLE-­RATTLE-­RATTLE. The door swung open, and Aldo greeted us. “Never fear! Aldo’s here. And I bring you good cheer!”
He turned on all the lights and started sweeping. “How’s it going, my fine-­looking frog?” he called.
“BOING!” Og answered. That’s his favorite word. It may be his only word, but he gives it all he’s got. “BOING-­BOING-­BOING!”
“And you, handsome hamster Humphrey. How is life with you?” he asked.
“Everything is good!” I said. I think he understood, even though he only heard “SQUEAK-SQUEAK- SQUEAK!”
It was such a beautiful spring evening, Aldo opened all the windows so Og and I could feel the sweet, fresh breeze.
“Thanks, Aldo!” I squeaked, and I did a little flip-flop for joy.
Og leaped up in his tank and let out a happy “BOING-­BOING!”
Aldo went about his work, sweeping, dusting and whistling a happy tune, until he got to the table with my cage and Og’s tank.
The whistling stopped, and Aldo leaned in and took a deep breath. “My friend, something isn’t right!”
Peering in through the bars of my cage, Aldo wrinkled his nose and sniffed again. “Something smells bad, but it’s not your cage.”
“And it’s not me!” I squeaked. “I keep myself VERY-­VERY-­VERY clean.”
“Hold on, buddy,” he said as he nudged my cage. “Ah! Now I see! Your cage is clean, but there’s quite a collection of stuff underneath. Hang on, Humphrey.” Aldo gently picked up my cage and moved it to another spot on the big table.
He was very careful, but my tummy still did a somersault.
“Yep. Somebody forgot to clean under there. Just look. Little bits of your old treats. A piece of strawberry, some crumbs, and what’s this? Ah, chewed-up celery,” he said.
I was unsqueakably embarrassed.
“It’s not your fault, my friend,” Aldo continued. “I’ll fix it.” He took a spray bottle and a cloth and whisked off all the mess, then stopped. “Hey, what’s this?”
He picked up some tiny pieces of paper that were sticking out from the bottom of my cage. He studied them carefully. “Somebody in Room Twenty-­six has very poor handwriting. It’s so tiny, I can’t read it.”
Aldo didn’t know what those papers were, but I did. They were pages from the little notebook I keep hidden behind the mirror in my cage.
And suddenly I remembered something that happened recently.
I had been writing in my notebook, as I often do when no one is around, when the bright lights came on and I heard Aldo’s cart rattling.
I quickly stuffed my notebook behind my mirror. Just as Aldo entered, a few pages fluttered down toward the table. Luckily, they were behind me, and that night Aldo didn’t notice.
After he left, I jiggled the lock-­that-­doesn’t-­lock, swung the door open and dashed out to collect the pages.
“NO-­NO-­NO!” I squeaked when I realized they’d floated underneath the cage. I couldn’t reach them, and there wasn’t enough room for me to crawl under to get them.
“BOING-­BOING-­BOING!” Og bellowed.
The pages seemed REALLY-­REALLY-­REALLY lost!
But I couldn’t give up yet. I tried to push the whole cage so I could rescue the pages, but goodness! I didn’t know it was so heavy. I tried and tried andtried, but it didn’t budge.
Exhausted, I crawled back inside, closed the door behind me and darted into my sleeping hut to rest.
The gentle splashing sounds of Og swimming in his tank put me to sleep.
I’m not one to give up—­no, not me! But for once, I was defeated.
Until Aldo moved the cage just now. Luckily, he left the pages on the table and said, “I guess whoever lost these will find them.”
Then he swung his broom over his shoulder, said good night to Og and me, turned off the lights and closed the door behind him.
There they were! The lost pages were right outside my door. I counted to ten and then kept going to twenty to be safe. Then I swung my door open, ran out, grabbed them with my teeth and raced back into my cage.
The streetlight outside my window was just bright enough for me to read what I had scribbled in my notebook not that long ago, when my classmates and I learned a lot from a very special visitor, and a mystery . . . 
Wait—­Mrs. Brisbane told the class that every good story must have a beginning, a middle and an end.
She’s usually right, so I’ll start at the beginning.
HUMPHREY’S HINTS FOR A HAPPY LIFE
If you hear somebody whistling (like Aldo), that person is probably feeling happy.
2
HAPPY-­HAPPY-­HAPPY!
We’d been seeing signs of spring for a while—­it was a little warmer, a little greener, and flowers and trees were bursting with beautiful blossoms. Looking around the classroom that day, it seemed that the students in Room 26 were blossoming as well.
Speak-Up-Sayeh, who had been so shy about answering questions in class because of her accent, was speaking up with confidence. A.J. and Garth, who had recently had a little misunderstanding, were best friends again. I could tell that Pay-­Attention-­Art was trying to pay more attention, while shy Tabitha wasn’t so shy since she’d become friends with Sit-­Still-­Seth, who now sometimes managed to sit still.
Raise-­Your-­Hand-­Heidi was raising her hand more. Stop-­Giggling-­Gail still giggled sometimes because she wouldn’t have been Gail if she lost her giggle!
Golden-­Miranda, also known as Miranda Golden, was practically perfect, as usual. (At least when her not-­perfect dog, Clem, wasn’t around.)
All in all, everybody seemed quite happy in Room 26. No one was happier than I was, because in my job as a classroom pet, I got to help them all with their problems.
I was really getting the hang of my job, and I LOVED-­LOVED-­LOVED it!
And while I wasn’t sure about Og the Frog when he first came to Room 26, he and I were now working together to help our teacher, Mrs. Brisbane. After a rough start, we’d become friends.
The feeling of happiness filled the room just like the sweet smell of grass and flowers coming through the open window by my cage.
JOY-­JOY-­JOY!
“Class, please copy down our spelling words for the week,” Mrs. Brisbane said after writing on the chalkboard.
That got my attention because I like to learn new words and I take the tests, too. (No one else knows, but I know that my grades have been improving.) I could tell our teacher was thinking about spring as well.
Softball
Blossom
Breezes
Picnic
Happiness
That last word summed it all up. Room 26 was filled with happiness, and so was I!
Then Mrs. Brisbane asked the students to take out their readers to start a new story. While I can follow along with the lessons, I don’t have a reader. But believe me, I can read. I don’t know about other hamsters, butI can!
While the others were reading silently, Mrs. Brisbane called Tabitha to come up to her desk and read to her. Luckily, my cage was close to the desk and we hamsters have tiny but excellent ears!
“Tabitha, why don’t you start off on page thirty-­three?” Mrs. Brisbane said.
Tabitha didn’t hesitate. She read from a story about a rabbit. Now, rabbits are nice enough. I knew some of them when I was in Pet-­O-­Rama before I was chosen to come to Room 26. But once in a while, I do wish someone would write about a hamster!
Mrs. Brisbane dismissed Tabitha and called Richie up to her desk.
Richie looked surprised. “Who, me?”
“Is your name Richie?” she asked.
Richie nodded.
“Then please come up. We’re starting on page thirty-­­three.”
There was a pause. A LONG-­LONG-­LONG pause.
“Richie?” the teacher said.
He shuffled his feet as he made his way to her desk. As he sat in the chair, he cleared his throat. Twice. Then he began. “The oldest rab-­rabbit was named . . . Charlie. He had ex-­tra big ears and . . . and—­” Suddenly he stopped. Mrs. Brisbane told him to continue.
Richie sighed. “And ex-­ex-­tra wiggly . . . whis-­kers.”
I could see that Richie was struggling. He cleared his throat a few more times.
“You’re doing fine,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “Please go on.”
“Do I have to?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Whiskers,” he repeated. “And he could . . . um . . . out-­hop everyone else in the . . . um . . . ga-­gard . . . um . . . gar-­den.”
“Thank you, Richie.” She called Mandy up next.
I didn’t really hear Mandy read. I was too busy watching Richie. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t look the way he did when he was with his friends or working on an art project.
All I know is, he didn’t look happy.
And that made me SAD-­SAD-­SAD.
Richie is usually a happy-­go-­lucky guy, just like his Uncle Aldo. Yep, my pal who cleans Room 26 is Richie’s uncle! I think he pays attention in class, but he often asks the teacher to repeat a question before he answers it. That’s why I call him Repeat-­It-­​Please-­Richie.
Everybody in class seems to like Richie. I know I do.
And so does Mrs. Brisbane.
* * * 
When the bell rang for morning recess, Richie was the first to race to the door, but Mrs. Brisbane asked him to stay for a minute.
He didn’t look happy-­go-­lucky when he turned back and walked to her desk.
“Richie, I know you don’t like to read aloud,” she began.
“I don’t! And I don’t know why we have to read to you. I can read to myself, and so can the others,” he said. Then he hung his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be . . .”
Mrs. Brisbane smiled. “I know. And I know you can read to yourself and understand what you’re reading. But reading aloud helps make you an even better reader. And it helps me see how you’re doing.”
“I can read in my head,” Richie said. “I really can.”
Mrs. Brisbane smiled and nodded. “And you can read aloud, too, if you just relax and practice.”
“Okay. I’ll try.” He didn’t sound like he meant it.
Mrs. Brisbane told him he could go to the playground, and Richie raced outside as fast as he could. She called after him, “And cheer up, Richie!” I’m not sure he heard.
Then she stood up and came over to the table. “Humphrey, Og . . . I know he can do it. He just needs a little help, don’t you think?”
I squeaked, “Yes,” with all my heart, and Og chimed in with a great big “BOING!”
But I still wasn’t sure. In the past, I’ve helped my fellowclassmates in many ways. But for once, I felt a little bit helpless. And, like Richie, I felt a little less happy.
Just then the principal of Longfellow School, Mr. Morales, popped into Room 26. He always cheers me up.
“Buenos días, my friends! How are my favorite hamster and favorite frog?”
“GREAT-­GREAT-­GREAT!” I replied, even though I knew all he heard was an enthusiastic “SQUEAK!”
“BOING-­BOING!” Og loudly splashed the water in his tank.
The principal leaned in closer to our table. “And she’s my favorite teacher, but don’t tell the others.”
“I heard that,” Mrs. Brisbane said with a smile.
Mr. Morales is the Most Important Person at school because he is in charge of all the students and all the teachers as well!
“Nice tie,” Mrs. Brisbane told him, and indeed it was, with bright yellow smiley faces all over it. He has an amazing collection of ties!
“I just wanted to tell you that the reading specialist has made all the arrangements and the school board has approved!” he announced.
Mrs. Brisbane clapped her hands. “Thank you! That’s good news. And good news for my students as well—­especially some of them!”
I hoped that whatever they were talking about was good for classroom pets, too!
“Are you going to tell your students or surprise them?” he asked.
“I think I’ll wait and tell them when he arrives,” she said. “Tomorrow.”
The recess bell clanged loudly, and Mr. Morales hurried to the door. “I better leave before I get run over!” He laughed.
When the door burst open and my classmates rushed in, I couldn’t help noticing that Richie looked unsqueakably happy! And so did Miranda!
“I got two goals in one game for the first time!” she said.
“Yep. We trounced them in volleyball, too!” Richie boasted.
“Good game! But we’ll trounce you next recess,” Tabitha snapped back.
Then they all laughed and slapped hands. High five, they call it. I guess I’d have to call it ahigh four because I have four toes on each of my front paws. But on each back paw (feet in humans), I have five toes each.
Trouncing didn’t sound like a very nice thing, but my friends seemed happy.
I crossed my toes and hoped that whatever surprise Mrs. Brisbane talked about, they’d like it.
And that I would, too.
HUMPHREY’S HINTS FOR A HAPPY LIFE
It’s not hard to tell if somebody feels happy. High fives generally make a person feel good!
3
The Mystery Guest
When the bell signaled the end of the school day, my friends hurried to catch the school bus or be picked up by a parent. But even though they were in a big hurry, they always took time to say good-­bye to Og and me.
“Bye, guys! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Kirk Chen said as he headed toward the door.
On the one paw, there are probably a lot of things Kirk can do that Og and I can’t. On the other paw, there are a lot of things I can do that he can’t—­like wiggle my whiskers, since he doesn’t have any. Or spin on a hamster wheel and do a quadruple somersault. (That means four in a row.)
And I don’t think humans can float in the water for hours, the way Og can. Or leap as high and fast as he does.
Kirk is a funny guy, though. “Don’t let anything bug you, Og,” he told my friend. I think that was a joke because he knows frogs actually eat bugs. ICK-­ICK-­ICK. Well, I sometimes eat mealworms, but that’s different.
I forgot about icky things as Mandy paused to say good-­bye. “You guys are lucky. You don’t havehomework!” Don’t-­Complain-­Mandy Payne always manages to have something to complain about, but she’s a lot of fun when she’s not complaining.
“Say hi to Winky for me!” I squeaked.
That was the name of the hamster I helped Mandy get. But that’s another story.
Pay-­Attention-­Art was the last to leave. “I’m sure glad I’m Animal Handler this week,” he said.
All the students in Room 26 took turns at various tasks, like taking care of Og and me and cleaning the chalkboards.
“You’ll do a great job!” I assured him, and he was pleased. So far, he hadn’t forgotten anything.
After Art left, Mrs. Brisbane collected her things and said good night, and then her phone rang. She took it out of her purse and answered.
“Oh, yes, Miss Allison. We’re all set. Should I bring a water dish for him, or will you? . . . Great. My class is really going to love this surprise. Thanks!”
And that was that! Another day at Longfellow School was over. And another long night began for Og and me.
 * * *
“Og, are you awake?” I asked my friend later that night.
He was sitting on the land side of his tank, staring straight ahead. I can never tell if he’s awake or asleep. Frogs like him don’t close their eyes when they’re sleeping. He was grinning, but then he always looks like he’s grinning.
“BOING-­BOING!” Og twanged.
“Did you hear what she said?” I asked. “Somebody surprising is coming here tomorrow!”
Og took a hop closer to the side of his tank. “BOING-­BOING!”
So he had been listening.
“I hope it’s a good surprise,” I squeaked. And then I remembered the other thing she said. The part about the water. Was the surprising someone another frog?
Og took a big hop into the water side of his tank and started splashing. Was he thinking what I was thinking? As much as I like Og, did Room 26 really need another frog? And some snakes live in water—­what if that was the surprise?!
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Some surprises are GOOD-­GOOD-­GOOD. And some surprises are BAD-­BAD-­BAD.
I didn’t get much sleep that night.
* * * 
After taking attendance the next morning, Mrs. Brisbane glanced at the clock on the wall. Then she stood in the front of the room with a big smile on her face. “Boys and girls, I have a surprise for you! A mystery guest is coming here in just a few minutes!”
There were “oohs” and “aahs” and excited whispers around the room.
“Who is it?” a voice asked.
“Raise-­Your-­Hand-­Heidi,” Mrs. Brisbane reminded her, as she had many times before.
Heidi raised her hand, and Mrs. Brisbane called on her.
“Is it somebody famous?” she asked.
“A movie star!” Gail giggled.
“No,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “But he’ll be a big help to our class.”
Richie groaned. “Another teacher?”
Mrs. Brisbane laughed. “No . . . more of a friend.”
The door opened slightly, and a woman’s face appeared and asked, “Are you ready?”
The answer was a loud “YES!” from everyone in the room. It was so loud, my cute little hamster ears wiggled and wobbled.
Mrs. Brisbane gestured toward the door. “Class . . . meet Happy!”
The door opened wider, and in walked a BIG-­BIG-­BIG black dog on a leash attached to the woman’s hand.
He did look as if he was smiling a little, but his large white teeth made my whiskers shiver and quiver.
My friends didn’t shiver or quiver. There was a chorus of “AWWWW.” And I thought I heard one groan.
Og leaped out of the water for a better look, then dived back in, splashing loudly.
“Well, it looks like Happy has made quite a splash so far,” Mrs. Brisbane said. “And I want you to meet Happy’s friend, Miss Allison.”
My friends said hi, but their attention was on Happy. The dog didn’t seem to mind.
Sayeh raised her hand and asked, “What is that bandana he’s wearing?”
At first I thought she said banana. But then I saw that he had some kind of scarf around his neck with writing on it. That must be called a bandana.
“That has to do with the reason he’s here,” Mrs. Brisbane explained. “Miss Allison will tell you all about it.”
Miss Allison patted Happy, and the dog sat down at her feet. “Boys and girls, I think you know that some dogs have jobs. They help the police, they help herd larger animals, or they go into disaster areas to rescue people. Dogs work in towns, on the water, in the mountains—everywhere. But Happy is training to be another kind of working dog. And what do you think he is going to be?” she asked.
“A movie star!” Gail giggled, and everyone laughed with her.
“A teacher,” Richie groaned, and everyone laughed again.
“A paw-­ppeteer!” Kirk was always fast with a joke.
Miss Allison laughed. “Good guesses! But he is just completing his training as a reading dog.”
My classmates were clearly surprised, and so was I.
“Dogs can’t read,” Mandy announced.
“I can read!” I blurted. My friends near my cage all giggled because all they heard were squeaks.
“My dog can read,” Miranda said firmly.
WHOA-­WHOA-­WHOA! Miranda always told the truth, but when I’d met her dog, Clem, he was a lot more interested in getting his nice sharp teeth on my pretty golden fur than reading. But who am I to disagree with Miranda?
“No way!” Seth said. Our classmates agreed.
Miranda grinned. “Well, maybe he can’t read, but he can spell. If I ask my mom if I can take Clem for aw-­a-­l-­k, he runs to where his leash is!”
Everybody laughed until Mrs. Brisbane spoke. “All right, class. Reading dogs help kids learn to read by listening. He’s here to practice so he can get his certificate. Then he’ll be working at the local library. Would you like to help him?”
Most of the heads nodded, and Tabitha raised her hand. “Can we pet him?” she asked.
“Everyone will get a chance to pet him, but not all at once,” Miss Allison said. “And there are rules, which I’ll explain.”
I wished someone would explain to me how a dog could help kids read. And I wondered if my friends would even notice Og and me as long as there was a dog in the room.