An omniscient narrator explains that Shy (who’s white with brown patches) is “the smallest and quietest pup at the shelter. She seldom made a sound.” When a light-skinned man with floppy brown hair visits the shelter and says that he’s looking for a dog “who can keep me company and help me concentrate while I work,” Shy seems like a natural fit. And she is—initially. But when the man, who is a pianist, tells Shy that he must practice, she’s all kinds of disruptive: “At first, she gave a small whine. Then, a soft woof under her breath. Then…‘Ow-WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’” The man tries to divert Shy so he can prepare for an upcoming concert, but it’s no use: She keeps yowling along as he plays. The tale’s ending is fairly inevitable, but it’s heartwarming nonetheless, and it can also be taken as a gentle rebuke to artistic rigidity. Andrews and Hamilton have blended their voices into a graceful storytelling instrument, and Byrne’s pen-and-ink art has a timeless quality, channeling the urbanity of Hilary Knight’s work in the likewise New York–set Eloise books. An authors’ note reveals that Shy is based on a poodle Andrews owned years ago who also liked to make herself heard.
