More stories about dogs

Once you had a dog. A rare thing: the first dog born of the moon. She traveled alone through the stars, circling the planets and drifting, absent-minded, through the void of space before returning home in a streak of furious fire. She burned on entry, red-hot and screaming. They held a parade in her honor. Gave her the key to the city. put her face on Time Magazine, which you placed in a white wood frame and hung on your office wall. Something to remember her by, you said. Though you were never sure if she was real.

Dog dreams

You don’t think Paul had a dog. He watched one occasionally and every now and then the two of you would go on walks together. You taught her to lie down and stroked her fur late at night while you slept next to her in his bed.

He had her on weekends, a holdover from a past relationship that ended amicably between the two of them. When you ask him about it he quickly changes the subject. Sometimes, late at night, you dream of him and the mysterious figure. You think through their life together and try your best to piece together the puzzle of his past. You imagine they met young, while at a college party. He, like he always did, said the right thing at the right time. They flirted and fell in love. Adopted a dog, not together, but that was the idea: something serious, but without the label.

In your dreams the two of them are connected by a long and sparkling silver thread. Their dog notices you and helps you navigate the strange space of dreams. Sorry, she tells you. It’s easy to forget that not everyone has been here before. For some people, she barks. It’s a first time.

Those dreams are funny things. They happen all the time. Even when you’re not sleeping but walking through the winding streets of north Austin. You find yourself in a daydream, imagining a future where Paul and you have another dog, though you can’t picture his true shape.

A dog park at the end of time

After years of not talking the two of you reconnected at the dog park. A chance encounter: he got up earlier than usual and you later. Your dog is small but loves playing with the big ones. His is old and always dying. Together you broker an easy peace, a truce from everything that happened before.

Your dogs play bite each other, sneezing to show that it’s not serious. You wish you could do the same. Lately, everything feels gray and long and thin. You think about a lyric you heard once from the band Japanese Breakfast:

Since the breaking of time, each minute drags for hours. They say it’s a consequence of relativity: we’re all moving faster now so everything feels slow. All you know is each trip to the dog park takes so long. A quick conversation stretches for hours, a playdate for years.

Still, you live a century in this time: tossing tennis balls and making small talk, discussing old jobs, and catching up. Despite it all, you never figure out why he left you in the first place.

A meeting with the Queen of Dogs

At night your dog wakes up and goes down the ramp connecting your bed to the floor. He opens the bedroom door and scurries down the hallway. You follow him, curious and half-asleep. He opens the curtains and the patio door. He steps outside and patiently sits staring at the moon. You ask him what he’s doing but he says nothing. Together the two of you count the stars you can see. Together you trace an outline around the moon that he once orbited.

Sometimes you wonder about his former life. Who owned him? How much did they care? And, would he remember his owner if they were to return? The question ripples through you: concentric circles of grief spreading across your body.

You think you know the answer, even if you wish you didn’t.

When the moon shines the brightest, peaking through the clouds and emptying into a vast clear night he beckons you to follow him. He has always been so independent and sure of where he wants to go—a quality you don’t share. Confidently he walks you up through the night sky. It’s not something you’ve done before and your legs feel weak and jelly-like against the night. He assures you by brushing his head against your hand, lightly nibbling your fingers as if to say, “Keep going.”

Together the two of you make your way into space. From far away you can see the Earth and all its ordinariness. Blues melting into greens, lights flickering on and off. You keep walking, making good time, straight towards the moon and into the palace of the Queen of Dogs. He announces your arrival with a hearty bark and demands you bow your head in grace. In front of you, perched on a marble throne, lightly licking her paw, the Queen of Dogs stares you down. She is glorious and furry: bright white and wearing a necklace made of bright pink flowers. She nods towards your dog and he leaves your side, rushing into the antechamber behind her and disappearing. You sit in silence, admiring her. For a moment you think of saying something but the words catch in your throat and before you can clear them your dog returns carrying a woven basket of treats and toys in his mouth.

He places them down in front of the Queen of Dogs and, gently, she lowers herself, planting a single lick on his forehead. Turning to you she examines the basket of offerings, sniffing each one with perfect intention. Finally, she nudges aside various treats and offerings: milk bones and tennis balls, torn stuffed toys, and the occasional bully stick or two. She picks out a stuffed pink elephant and gently places it in front of you. Your dog barks once, picks up the toy, and prances out.

You turn to follow him; afraid alone you might be able to find your way back. Before you leave you feel something stir inside of you: the words caught earlier now unobstructed. You turn back to face the Queen of Dogs and she smiles gently, wagging her tail behind her. You break away from your dog and run straight towards her, throwing your arms around her mane and whispering something into her ears. Your dog interrupts you, tugging on the leg of your pants, and bowing apologetically. She does not seem to mind. Instead, she leans down and licks you twice, pushing you forward gently with her head.

Together the two of you leave the Queen of Dogs, a long and musical howl announcing your departure.