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Chasing the Stars.

A Dog’s Story.

By Hannah Marie. Published 3 years ago 8 min read
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On this starry night, silence engulfs me. Even the shadows are something that won’t come near because there are no trees anymore. Just land, an occasional overturned vehicle, and darkness. The desert stretches for an eternity. Sometimes there are even some human articles of clothing left behind and, more often than I like to see, human bones. It has been this way since I was a pup. I learned very early on not to touch the human bones, no matter what. When I grew into my wolf-like self, I steered clear of all living humans as well, if I could help it.

There was something new about that night, like something unexpected hung in the air. Now I am a skeptical animal, and I do not try to pretend that something is there when it is not, but something is changing here. For years I lived on the edge of this desert, watching the migrants move to a more hospitable land, abandoning what used to be known as the state of Texas. They still carry packs with them, but they look different now. Instead of a backpack with all the essentials, they carry their tent with collapsable poles. Most of the time the only thing inside is a blanket, something to start a fire, and canned food. None of the wick-away clothes, extra supplies, second pair of hiking boots. Nothing more than necessary because those extras aren’t being made any more. Not since the world collapsed.

There have been tornadoes and hurricanes, but they grew, and more of them came, especially after the last big Disaster that decimated half of the human world that they call earth. In the desert I just see lots of wind storms, but in other areas, much of the land is pushed underwater by giant floods. I prefer to keep my own paws on dry land. For years, people have moved through my area, sometimes throwing me some scraps of food which beats hunting or digging for nourishment. Then one evening this all changed.

I had just finished my nightly 120,000 steps, which is approximately 30,000 steps times my four paws, a diligent new habit that I’ve picked up from restless travelers. I love to chase the stars, wondering what is out there in space. A lone human appeared in my area, pitching his tent just a sniff-step away. He settled far enough as not to be a threat, but close enough to my evening bed that I was unaccustomed to having something living so close. He was still there this morning, weeks later. Two things are odd about this little human. One, the fact that he does not come with his family group. Even if the people who come here are not with their blood families, they come as groups. Always. It is the human culture, and as a mammal whose ancestors used to travel in packs, I can understand that. The second thing: He never ever picked up his tent to move. Instead, he started this morning on something that might be a wall. This man is smart, but he’s slow. I sneak close enough to sniff the air, and instead of the desert, I smell something like food. He looks up, and I slink off before he can see me. My body goes into sleep mode, but I can’t take my eyes off this human. He sits outside his tent at night, staring at the empty land. There isn’t anything left.

I curl up in my old tire, an extraordinary thing perfect for play, for shelter, and for sleep. They are rarely used now because rubber is no longer being manufactured, as of about twenty earth years ago. The next morning the familiar feet of a cockroach crawl across my nose and I try to shake it off. Those things never die.

"Those things never die." A voice imitates. I jump to my feet, teeth bared and fur on end. I have not learned to speak human--yet. The loner is crouched right next to me. He was watching me sleep! And now he's trying to bribe me! The tiny fish he hands me does look good, but I don't snatch it from his hand. I lower my head and give a warning growl. He opens up his palm and puts the fish on the ground. Then he backs up, my eyes following his every move. I wait until his back is turned before I snatch the fish. Right as my jaws clamp around it, I hear a loud noise and the man falls on the ground. There is something sticking out of him, and it's not an arrow. Those went extinct years ago. But he is hurt. I inch closer and my nose almost touches him before I see it. It's a tent peg, like at the corner of his little flappy house. Something else glitters around his neck. It is a familiar shape, like the card my owner left behind. It means love. I wonder who this human loves. But then I remember that he is the lone human. There are no others. Just like there’s no one for me. I check the horizon for the intruder into my territory, but nobody is there. Then I look back at my bed.

A figure hovers over the tire, right where I was just sleeping ten minutes ago! It's not a warrior, like I thought, but a young girl, and her hair is pulled back in a low braid. I'm not going back. It's more true now. But I have to help the human. I nudge him with my nose and he moves a little bit, letting out a yell. The spike is only in his arm, so he grabs me and gets to his feet. I tell myself to stay. The lady figure is walking towards us. Then she begins to run. She is yelling something in a human language that I don't understand. Then my human turns and says something right back, which makes her stop. They touch elbows in a cautious greeting. The only two words I understand in this language are "Erin." And a few seconds later, "Cal." They have some strange names. I like the names Hero, Baloo, or Spot, but the humans don't listen to me. The woman's hair is wild, like mine, and more red than I've ever seen. The man puts his hand through his hair, like he's noticed that he hasn't groomed in a few days. A few weeks, really, but I can’t tell the lady this. They stop talking and he turns to pull together his tent and puts it on his back. I can't help but bark and run around. It looks so exciting! They are both leaving. He turns and motions to me. I remember my bed, but there is nothing there now. I am ready for an adventure!

One of the first things we do is to set up the tent again. Erin finds some part of a wall that she drags over as a barrier, and she makes a comment that I still don't understand. She looks at me with a grin, so I pretend like she said something nice about me instead of the probably, "Why did we bring the dog along? He's trouble." I like to think of myself as a wolf, but I can't speak her language any more than she can mine. I wag my tail and try to lick her. She leans away.

When the Erin human builds a fire, Cal says something and she punches him. It doesn't turn into a fight, but Cal grins and Erin takes the first bite of food. Then she throws me some bread and I am really hungry, so I scoot closer. I'm not sure how I feel about these humans, but they are feeding me and the fire feels good. Scraps of metal glitter around the fire, larger remains from airplanes that don't fly and left over parts from the motor contraptions that humans used to ride. Since the gas in the ground has dried up in most parts, the humans walk or use those two-wheeled things to get around. There are some really busy communities who never leave or, like ours, very sparse ones that never stay in place. I don't mind. I lay my head down.

Right then there is another noise, and this one isn't a flying tent peg with a man screaming at the other end. It sounds like another animal. I start to bark and Cal shushes me. I don't quite understand it, but I obey him. Erin reaches for the gun that I didn't know she had, but it looks like it's been hiding in her boot for a long time. Cal whistles, and I run over beside him and duck down, like I've been practicing for this my whole life. He gives me a quick rub and whispers in my ear, "Good dog." Then he's gone. He runs over to Erin, who uses an overturned part of a car as cover. It won't last long, I want to tell them. But the fight doesn't either. The other group moves off to claim another territory. These are daily occurrences now. Most people shoot before asking questions.

They both sit on the ground, and I settle nearby, pretending that I know what they are saying. He waves his arms animatedly. Probably tells a story, like he might have to his kids in times past. Maybe he explains that he has been alone for some time. Erin frowns and it looks like she asks a question. “What about your family? What happened to them?” He shakes his head, but doesn’t answer. She pats his leg. “I am looking for bright stars in my life because nothing has gone right for me since a tornado wiped away my home. Then I found you both. We can help each other.” They continue, but I am getting too sleepy to invent more conversations.

When Erin reaches for me, I duck my head, but don't growl. She laughs as she pets me and says something else to the man. He looks at me, but what he says is in her language so it’s a mystery. I tilt my head, trying to follow. Cal puts his arm around my neck, which no human has done in years, and he straps something on, probably leather, with his locket heart dangling from it. "You are my family now," he tells me. He grabs Erin's hand and she punches his shoulder, then grins. We’ll have another new adventure tomorrow. Together.

A whistle echoes through the darkness.

Short Story
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About the Creator

Hannah Marie.

Storytelling Through Art.

My goal is to show experiences in a meaningful way through short stories and hand-drawn sketches.

Find me on IG too! @Hannah_Marie._Artwork

—Hannah Marie.

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