She pointed to different objects around the homearium, the desk, the chair, the shower, and asked him—Khh? Koh?

He did not react when she pointed at any of these objects. He just kept repeating the word, using the same emphasis, waiting for her to understand.—Khh. Khhh-oh.

* * *

He continued to want to play catch with her. She would throw the ball to him, and he would return it by squeezing the ball in his mouth to pop it into the air. Each day, however, it flew a little less far, a bit less energy, so she had to step forward to catch it. The two of them were 4 feet apart, then 3.

So far as she could tell, he did not seem in pain and he still enjoyed this game, insisted on it. And this game was how she got him to practice speaking after he was no longer hungry for more fish. So she continued to play with him, throwing the ball and catching it, while watching him, worried. Animals sometimes acted healthy until they were quite sick.

* * *

K-hh—he said—K-oh. K-rrh.

Several days had passed, and he was impatient at her lack of understanding. He acted as though he was playing charades with someone who was a little slow.

Each time he said the word, she considered the situation. So far as she could tell, the word was not linked to any particular action or object.

So she began to bring him objects from outside the homearium. She showed him an ear of corn and asked—Koh?

He tilted his head at her.

She showed him an apple core.—Krrh?

He exhaled, perhaps exasperated.

Whatever he was trying to say, he concentrated each time on the pronunciation. The muscles round his blowhole clenching. The word emerged, as visually surprising as a belly button speaking.—Kh-rrh. Kh—orr.

The only common thread she noticed about this word was that he used it when he was happy, when he woke up in the morning or when they were swimming together in the deep end.

She began to wonder if he could have made up this word. If it could be his word for happiness or thank you.

* * *

The largest town on the island was Charlotte Amalie. After the article in the local paper was published, the mayor of this town arrived one day with his wife and dachshund. Blum led them into the homearium, the dog in the wife’s arms. None of them seemed to have considered the wisdom of bringing the dog. Perhaps this was understandable since the animal was plump and half dozing and didn’t appear likely to do much aside from snore. Cora felt it was not her place to ask the mayor and the wife to take their pet out of the room.

At first everything seemed O.K. The dog did not appear to notice Junior. Cora showed Junior different shapes, and he said their names. He counted to three.

The problem came when she held up the ball and Junior said—B . . . all.