Last call for the dogs at our house is usually around 11 pm. When first call starts at around 5 am, that makes for a very long day. So, at night, I always walk them out to ensure that they get down to business.

Since my sense of humor and patience have already gone on to bed without me hours ago, no dawdling is allowed.

Kiera and Graidy know the drill.

Wink, still very much a puppy at 18 months, sees this as another opportunity to prolong the day.

He stops. I groan. He’s always stopping.

Wink has this idea that he should get all his exercise inside, running around the house like a madman. So he can spend all of his time outside, standing perfectly still, sniffing everything for hours on end.  I am not supportive of the sniffing tonight.  I enforce a strict ‘Walk and Poop’ policy because I’d like to get to bed within the same 24 hours in which I awoke.

So we’re outside, and he’s stopped–again–and I’m about to start whining.  But he doesn’t lower his head to the ground to sniff.  He looks around.

By this time, Graidy and Kiera, having bored of Wink’s shenanigans, retreat through the dog door. I presume they’ve gone upstairs to seek out the warmth and comfort of their dog beds.

I look around. I notice that it’s started snowing. I’m surprised. There wasn’t any snow expected in the forecast.

Everything is so quiet.  The snow is quickly blanketing the ground and dampening the ambient sounds, so that all Wink and I can hear is water running in the stream in back.

Wink looks up to the sky and continues to look up for what seems like a very long time.  I look up, too.

The snowflakes are huge, and fall gently toward us.  They look silver under the porch light, and they seem to go on, straight up, for miles and miles.

Beyond the snow I can see stars.

I look back down at Wink.  He’s still looking up, and I watch him take it all in.

Finally he turns to look me straight in the eye as if to ask,  Snow and stars together — isn’t it amazing?  What is this universe we live in?  How did we get here, and why are we here anyway?

Out loud I say, “Nobody knows, Wink.  People have been trying to answer those questions for thousands of years — but at the end of the day, nobody knows.”

He smiles in the way that dogs do.  Isn’t it wonderful?

“Yes, it is.”

I sit down on the deck next to him and pull him to my side. We both look back up.