“If there seems to be no communication between you and the people around you, try to draw close to those things that will not ever leave you. The nights are still there and the winds roam through the trees and over many lands.” — Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Walking the pup last the last few nights, quietly celebrating her birthday in our meandering walk of stargazing and lawn sniffing (we each have our ritual), I replayed some of the day in my head while the universe spun above like a kaleidoscope of wonder. The waxing crescent moon the last couple of night stuns and delights. Hints of auroras in the air, not reaching us but worthy of diligent glances nonetheless. Venus and Orion have shared the same sky, creating a sky that made the pup’s long investigative sniffs seem shorter.

The pup appreciates my stargazing, for it gives her time for her own night’s work. Sometimes she’ll lead me off onto a lawn if I’m especially distracted by the sky. Just a reminder that she’s there and aware, so maybe I ought to get my head out of the clouds a bit more. That’s been the goal the entire time, of course. Awareness in the moment—away from all that isn’t here and now. No earbuds, no screens, no replaying the hits and misses of the day. Simply being present on our walks together, until it was time to head back in once again.

Perhaps we’ll meet again tonight, to do it all over again? The sky will surely offer something completely different to wonder at as the day slowly fades into memory. How long have we been doing this? Three years with this pup, longer with our old friend that preceded her. How many dogs will we have in a lifetime? Such calculations aren’t worth considering. Not when we have this one, now, and such a beautiful sky above and lawns full of smells only a dog could love.