The Dog Star’s Bark

I gazed in rapt wonder at the dark night sky, nearly asleep in the deck’s recliner. Then came the sound. I swear, I did hear the Dogstar barking at me. She wouldn’t believe me of course, when I told her. Any more than when I told her of the squirrel who returned my wave with an uplifted paw one day, when we saw one another through the front window.

“You fell asleep out there under the stars. That’s all.”
“No, I’m sure. Well–I think I’m sure.”
“So did its tail wag too,” she smirked.
“No! Of course not. A star doesn’t have a tail to wag.” She refused to take my observation seriously. Who could blame her, I suppose.
“Ah, so why do you suppose it barked at you? Hoping for a handout–perhaps a bone?” One eyebrow arched up as she patted my arm.
“I don’t know! Maybe a warning to watch out for one of your Seven Sisters?” I offered an arched brow of my own, omitting the pat.
“I don’t have seven sisters. What are you talking about?” She hadn’t a clue of course.
“Are you sure? You know of at least one half-sister to go along with the two full sisters who lived at home with you growing up. Maybe there are more out there that your father played a part in bringing into the universe.”
“Ok, there was that one, but my papa wasn’t a rolling stone so far as I know. He only hung his hat in our mother’s home.”
“So, not the Seven Sisters then. Maybe Orion then. Maybe he had one too many belts at the Big Dipper and got rowdy.”
“Yeah right. I think you had too many belts while binge watching the Outer Limits and Neil deGrasse Tyson last night.”
“Could be,” I chuckled at that.

I missed the writing prompt on the last post, so here’s one for this week for any who want to find inspiration for their own short (or long) pieces:

“Home is not where you live but where they understand you.”–Christian Morgenstern

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