Armstrong, W.H. (1969). Sounder.
New York: HarperCollins.
My
name is Sounder. You can hear my voice all through the woods when I get a coon
or possum caught up in wild grapevines or an old persimmon tree. My redbone hound voice carries on until I
catch another scent. The boy says,
"There ain’t no dog like Sounder.” I
reckon he is right. Being a sharecropper’s dog is a hard life…little food, cold
nights, lots of hunting. Times get even harder when the men come with guns and
take away the boy’s father. No more long hunts in the cold, windy woods. No more calloused hands on my neck and
whispers of “good Sounder, good Sounder” after a hunt. I chased after the boy’s
father, I got hurt and I couldn’t find him.
If I don’t have my voice, life won’t be the same at the cabin with the
boy. Read my story and find out what
happens to me, the boy, and the boy’s father in Sounder by William H. Armstrong.
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