Roffa liked looking at the moon. She was not sure what it was but she liked staring up at it when it hung in the night sky, round and silver. Perhaps, she wondered, it was the food bowl of some sky dog.
When it was silver could that meant that the bowl was empty?
When the moon began to turn dark then perhaps that meant that the bowl was being filled with food until it was completely dark, filled with delicious food, and then the sky dog would eat the food, one bite each night, until once again the moon was a brilliant silver disc, all ready to be filled with food again.
The sight of the full moon, hanging silver in the sky, made Roffa feel sad.
Roffa felt sorry for the poor sky dog who only got fed every 28 days. Roffa got a bowl of food in the morning and another in the evening. Every day. Roffa also got first dibs on any food that fell on the floor, was left on top of tables, or was not actively kept under lock and key. Roffa felt that it was her job to keep the house free from loose food and she liked to think that she was very good at her job.
“I should get a medal,” thought Roffa, “For services to the house”.
She could wear the medal on her collar next to the metal tag which read “My name is Roffa. If found then please call my family. DO NOT LET ME DRIVE YOUR CAR!”.
“Yes, definitely a medal. And a sash!”, decided Roffa.
Roffa had seen dogs on the television jumping through hoops and over fences and at the end they were given sashes to wear. Roffa had never jumped through a hoop but she had once fallen off next door’s fence so she felt that she deserved a sash as well.
Roffa sat in the garden and looked up at the silver moon. She felt sad for the sky dog, the moon was huge and completely silver. Completely empty of dog food.
Roffa lifted her head up to the sky and howled to let the sky dog know that she hoped that the bowl would be refilled soon. Some streets away another dog lifted its head to the moon and began to howl.
Soon there were dogs across the city howling up at the sky. Letting whoever needed to know that the sky dog’s bowl was empty.
And that, oh excellent reader, is why dogs howl at the full moon.
Mark O'Neill 