Every evening, as soon as the moon appeared above the rooftops, a dog named Arturo would walk out into the garden and bark.
Awoooo!
Always just once.
Then he would go back inside as if nothing had happened.
By now, everyone in the neighborhood knew about him.
“There goes Arturo.”
“He’s talking to the moon.”
“That dog is a little crazy.”
Even the cats made fun of him.
“And does she answer you?” they laughed from the stone walls.
Arturo never got offended.
He wagged his tail softly and looked up at the sky.
“No. But she listens.”
Then one night, the moon did not appear.
The sky was empty.
No light above the chimneys.
No silver shadows on the streets.
Even the little pond in the park looked dim and lifeless.
Arturo went outside anyway.
He waited.
And waited again.
But nothing happened.
So he sat by the gate with his ears lowered.
A hedgehog passed by.
A cat walked past.
Even the wind wandered through.
“You’re not barking tonight?” someone asked.
Arturo stared at the dark sky.
“I think the moon got lost.”
Everyone laughed at that.
But he was completely serious.
So he left the garden and began searching for her.
He sniffed through the bushes.
Looked inside puddles.
He even climbed the small hill behind the village.
And there, between the branches of an old tree, he found something tiny and glowing.
It was a little piece of the moon.
Round.
Pale.
Trembling like a cold firefly.
Arturo moved closer carefully.
“Ah,” sighed the little piece of moon. “There you are.”
“You were looking for me?”
“Of course. When you bark, from up there I know everything is alright.”
Arturo tilted his head.
“Really?”
“Of course. The children are asleep. The dogs are dreaming. The mothers are turning off the lights. And the world keeps spinning.”
So the dog lay down beside the little piece of moon to keep it warm.
And that night, above the village, the moon slowly returned to its place.
From that day on, Arturo kept barking every evening.
Only once.
Awoooo!
Not to wake the world.
But to tell it:
“I’m still here.”
