Song of a Silver Dog

for: Samantha Smith

Long ago, when the Sun still shone much more brightly than now, there was a silver dog. While this dog had no great light of his own, he shone like the Sun, because he nearly perfectly reflected all the light the Sun gave him. He had the uncommon talent of returning with an open heart what was given him and still giving of his own also. So he shone like the Sun. Yet he was so gloriously bright few could stand to look at him and see this beauty. Perhaps no one would ever have dared to look at him at all if it was not for his eyes. His eyes did not shine like his coat. His eyes were a soft deep emerald green. There was rest in his eyes, and there was peace from the near-blinding brightness. For this reason many came to see him even though few could stand his light. You see, in those days the Sun was brighter than she is now and she was ever in the sky. The creatures of the world loved her light and her glory, but they had little rest, and since her magnificent beauty was always there, they grew to take her for granted. So, many came to the dog. They came to rest, they came to see, and they came to know his peace. Yet the dog was lonely. He longed to speak with others, to have them speak with him, but he was held in such awe that no one dared speak to him and his bark was so quiet as to be nearly silence itself.

Among the many creatures of the world at this time was a race of copper fleas. The copper fleas were a small people, and they had their small prides. They prided themselves in their skill in jumping. Their devotion to their fellows was a matter of great honor with them, and they did their best to do their best by all. Still they lived as fleas do, off the lifeblood of other creatures, yet they did not know this. They did not know they caused other creatures pain. They saw merely that they were feeding their neighbors, their families, and themselves. Nevertheless, they did cause others great pain, for the copper fleas ate without mercy and few who hosted them survived very long at all.

It so happened that a panther that was dying of the fleas went to see the silver dog. The panther was hardier than most and survived long enough to make the long journey to see the dog. It was the panther's wish to see the peace of the silver dog's eyes before she died. When the poor dying panther came to the end of her journey, she fainted at the dog's feet. At this, the other animals there looked up with fright. It took them but a moment to recognize that this panther had the dreaded fleas. Many of them fled. Some of them stayed and tried to remove the panther from the dog's presence. But then the dog stood up and placed his right front paw gently on the panther in a manner which clearly said that the panther would stay. They tried to explain to him, they pleaded, and they begged. They did this all with the utmost respect because they all esteemed the dog very highly and had never dared to speak to him before. Still, in spite of their efforts, the dog stayed firm. After realizing that his mind would not be changed, they too left.

Though the dog had listened carefully to the other animal's reasoning and pleading, he did not understand why they felt such a need to abandon one of their fellow creatures. Even in the throng of animals that seemed constantly to be around him, in his silence he knew loneliness and did not wish it on this panther who had come so far to see him. The dog, quiet as ever, stood by the panther, and slowly the panther came to. The panther gasped in amazement at the closeness of the silver dog. She had indeed traveled far to see him, but she had never dreamed of this; he was blinding. She made a sound that might have been a whimper and flinched from his light. The dog was startled. Had he hurt this creature? He backed off, worried he had, and tried to look into her eyes to try to see what he had done. As he looked in her eyes, he caught them, and she looked into his. She stilled when she saw them, and then, her mission done, she died in peace. The silver dog did not know what to do. Certainly nothing like this had ever happened before. He brushed her once softly with the tip of his nose, and then sure that she was dead, he walked off a ways and fell down to mourn.

The fleas had not been idle in this time. They knew the signs that soon their food supply would run out here and that they must seek new feeding grounds. So whenever another animal touched the panther, several fleas jumped off to make themselves a new home. The creatures that the panther had brushed against on her way to the dog got fleas. The animals that had tried to pull the panther away once they learned it had the fleas got fleas too. And when the silver dog brushed his nose against the dead panther, he received the last of them. The great silver dog himself had become infested with the deadly fleas.

News spread throughout the world of the flea-ridden panther that had come to see the silver dog. The strange story was often whispered among the animals. It was not long before all had heard that the once stunningly brilliant silver dog had caught fleas from that panther and that his silver coat tarnished as he mourned her. No longer did any travel to see the silver dog.

Disregardless, the dog continued to mourn. He felt more lonely than ever. He hardly even noticed the pain from the fleas. He even fell into talking to himself in his quiet voice that no one seemed to hear. He spoke of all his thoughts and dreams, of his loneliness, of all the animals that had come to see him, of the peace he saw in their eyes when they had looked into his, and of the panther. He spoke of everything he could think of, but even he did not listen to his voice.

The fleas did not mourn. They closed their eyes to the panther's death, and they fed upon the dog. They closed their eyes to his coat that shone like the Sun, so they did not see that it tarnished. They closed their eyes when they ate his. His once so calm eyes filled with tears until they were eaten away to nothing. Yet not all their eyes were closed. One flea, a single flea, had his eyes open. He saw the dog's kind eyes before they were gone, and he heard the dog's voice before it truly did become silence. He stopped and listened, and what he heard reached his little flea heart. He knew what he was doing. He knew what his neighbors and his family were doing by closing their eyes. He could not go on like this. He must let them know. But the other fleas were busy, they would not even listen to one of their own. So while the fleas ate, the silver dog was dying.

Then the silver dog did die. His silver coat tarnished, his soft emerald eyes gone forever, his whisperings stopped, and his mourning ended. For the fleas, the feast was over. None of them had found a new host to fed them after the dog was gone, for no other animal had come near him since the day of the panther. Finally the fleas were not busy. Finally they would listen. The single flea who had heard the dog told the others and this time they heard, but it was too late. Now the fleas did mourn, but fleas are not made for crying. Copper fleas dance, they jump, and they sing. So the copper fleas made the words of the silver dog into a song, and this song they all sang together at the top of their little flea voices mourning what they had done.

The fleas sang so long and so hard with all their hearts that their song reached the Sun where it melted in her ear. The Sun could not recall having ever heard such a song, so she took the time to listen to it closely. She had never heard the silver dog, and now she seemed to know his every word. She learned how much he had wanted to tell her these things, how lonely he had been. She learned how creatures came from all over the world to look into his eyes as a rest from the brightness. She had not known that the creatures of the world had felt this way. They were blinded by her glory? She blushed at her foolishness for not seeing it before, and from that day forth she has always hid her face from the world every night so that we might have rest from her brilliance. Yet she feared to leave the world in total darkness, so she asked her softer sister, the Moon, to watch over it at night. The Moon agreed and even wears a silver coat in memory of the dog of that color. The copper fleas smiled when they saw this and knew the dog would be pleased that someone finally had heard his bark.