On Nights Like These

The moon skitters among the clouds, still generous after full. I think of Selene, the Greek goddess of the moon. Now there was a goddess; she wasn’t the skipping down the forest trail goddess. She would lift your wallet or run off with your best friend and leave you with the bar tab. Artemis would trick you with moonlight; Selene would turn you in on a trick gone bad. She was trouble. Nights can be calm and gentle. They can also be stormy and foreboding. In the immortal words of Van Morrison, “that just depends on wherever you’re at…”

I’m thinking this while walking Chester, the damn fine good one. Pup, I gotta tell ya, a boy couldn’t ask for a better dog. Large and handsome—a real badass as you’ve shown time and time again with the neighborhood dogs (is there any dog in the whole range, from Stinkville to Ethel and James Memorial Gardens, who would even bark at you? I think not Pup. I think not).

And I know times have changed. I remember when I could outrun you—you were an eager but undernourished little pup—grown up on the outside but still a pup. Then you could outrun me.

Now I’m pretty sure I could outrun you again Pup. And I know one day we’ll have to say good-bye. And it breaks my heart.

But it’s not tonight. And when the time comes Chester, don’t worry. I will be there.