The Little Dog Who Watched Over the Stars

In a little house,

beside an old bay window,

there lived a long-eared dog

with eyes of clearest crystal.

His coat was golden,

his little paws honey-colored,

a patch upon his chest

and a small bell on his skin.

Every morning he awoke

as the sky began to lighten,

and with his restless tail

he set the whole house dancing.

He ran along the hallways,

he leapt up on the armchair,

and woke up all his family

with barks of pure excitement.

His name was Valentín,

though they called him Brave One,

because he guarded the house

with his burning heart.

He wasn't afraid of shadows,

nor of the summer thunder,

but he went looking for company

whenever no hand was there at hand.

He loved to go chasing leaves

when the strong wind came to blow,

and he thought that they were ships

sailing off to some sea below.

He would sniff at every stone,

every flower, every nook,

as if the world were keeping

a secret deep inside its book.

Whenever he found a branch,

he would carry it with honor,

as if it were a treasure

of value beyond all measure.

Then he would dig in the earth

with patience and decision,

burying away his toys

without a word of explanation.

His family would watch him

and a smile would soon begin,

because wherever Valiente was

it was impossible not to grin.

But the dog was not only

a mischievous playful pup;

he also knew how to recognize

the sadness of the heart.

If someone came home weary

from a long and grayish day,

he would come near in silence

and rest his happy snout that way.

He never asked what was wrong,

nor did he look for a reason;

he simply stayed there

keeping the sorrow company.

Because a dog does not need

to understand every word;

it is enough to hear the soul

when the soul no longer speaks.

One winter night,

when the wind set trembling

the windows of the house

and the branches of the walnut tree,

Valentín went out to the garden

and set about gazing at

a sky full of lights

that would not stop shining.

—What can those fireflies be

that I cannot reach?

Could they be lost toys

that someone forgot to put away?

And he barked up at the stars,

once, twice, even three times,

hoping that one of them

would come down to his feet.

But the lights stayed on,

far away, right where they were,

tracing across the sky

a thousand paths of crystal.

Then he saw a small one,

the faintest of them all,

trembling among the clouds

the way a song trembles.

Valentín thought, worried:

“That star is cold;

I'll stay right here and guard her

though the dew may freeze me through.”

And he lay down in the flowers,

with his muzzle pointing high,

keeping watch upon that star

so that it would never die.

Slowly all the hours drifted,

and the moon went drifting too,

and he never turned his gaze

from that tiny flickering blue.

Until a little girl came out

all wrapped up in a blanket's fold;

she was his most beloved friend,

the keeper of his heart of gold.

—What are you doing, Valiente?

Come inside now, if you please.

Tonight the cold is bitter

and out here there's a fierce breeze.

And the little dog, with his eyes,

explained without a sound

that a star was all alone

and he had to guard her ground.

The girl looked up toward the heavens

and she understood his aim;

she sat down beside her friend

and embraced him all aflame.

—She's not alone —the girl told him—,

because you're watching her tonight.

And you yourself are not alone,

because I'm here to guard your light.

And so the two remained together

beneath the vast and endless dark,

while the wind was singing

a song of friendship true.

From that day on, each evening,

before going off to rest,

Valentín went out to the yard

and watched that special place.

The little star was there,

waiting for him as well,

twinkling away so gladly

whenever she caught sight of him.

One night, that very star

seemed to fall into the garden,

leaving a trail of white

right in front of Valentín.

The little dog went running

with wonder and delight,

but all he found was a stone

shaped just like a heart.

He took it in his teeth

and carried it back home,

certain that the sky

had only just sent it to him.

He tucked it under his blanket,

beside his old collar,

and dreamed that among the clouds

he was learning how to walk.

He dreamed that he had wings

the color of the sunflower,

that he leapt from planet to planet

and chased after the sun.

In his dream, the stars

invited him to play,

tossing comets down at him

that he had to go back home.

He would run across the moon,

spinning round and round in play,

and the glowing prints he left

turned into a necklace's array.

But on waking up at dawn,

when he heard the girl's voice near,

he understood that here on Earth

was the place he should be, here.

Because there he had his home,

his own food and his armchair,

the caresses of the girl

and a huge collection there

of well-chewed rubber balls,

of little twigs and one shoelace,

of shoes he had hidden away

and a brown sock, just in case.

Many winters came and went,

many days beneath the sun;

the little girl grew up tall

and old age came to Valiente.

He no longer ran so lightly,

no longer leapt the gate,

but he kept, still whole and untouched,

his kind and generous heart.

He would walk along so slowly

by the border of the yard,

and when each night arrived

he lay down beside the jasmine.

The young woman would sit down

at his side, as yesterday,

and she stroked his ears

until she saw him drift to sleep.

—Do you remember that star

you wanted to protect?

It still shines in the sky,

because you never let it fall.

The little dog looked at her

with tenderness and gratitude;

for him, his loveliest star

had always been you.

One peaceful early morning,

when the sky was turning blue,

Valentín closed his eyes

held in the arms of her light.

There was no thunder, there were no shadows,

there was no fear and no pain;

only a very small wind

carrying the scent of a flower.

And they say that on that night

something began to shine:

beside the little star

another light took its place.

It had the shape of a little dog,

a restless tail, honey-colored,

a spot upon its chest

and a shining little bell.

Ever since then, when a child

feels afraid or all alone,

a star with little ears

keeps him company from up there.

It watches over all his toys,

it watches over sleep and home,

he frightens the bad dreams off

with a tiny little bark.

And the girl, now grown a woman,

when she looks at that far sky,

knows that he is watching over her,

her beloved Valentín.

For the dogs we love so dearly

never wholly go away:

they remain within our lives,

in our hearts and in it all.

They live inside a burst of laughter,

in the pawprints in the yard,

in the blanket by the fireside

and in blossoms of jasmine.

They live on when we pronounce

that faithful name with tenderness,

when we catch sight of a star

with a glimmer honey-hued.

And though many years may pass

and remembering still brings pain,

every dog leaves to the world

a little bit of all his love.

A love that's simple and that's clean,

with no pride and no condition,

one of those that finds a refuge

in the heart for evermore.

And so, if on some evening

you should see a star leap by,

do not ask it for a wish

nor go trying to reach that high.

It may just be some little dog

who's come back again to play,

chasing among the clouds

a moon-made ball.

Smile up at him from below,

leave him your heart,

because he will be watching over you

from his constellation.