Stars Don't Bark

On hiatus

Mama says the world is too loud for little pups like me. Too many flashing lights, too many scary people with big voices and sharp questions. So she keeps me tucked away, safe in her arms, hidden in her hoodie where no one else can see.

She's famous. Like, really famous. People scream her name and chase her with cameras. But when we're alone, she's just Mama. She sings soft songs and rubs behind my ears and tells me I'm her good girl. I don't bark when she's near. I don't shake. I just curl up and feel warm.

I don't know much about the world outside. I know it wants her. I know it would never understand me. Mama says I'm her secret-her soft little secret with paws and whimpers and big puppy eyes. And secrets have to be protected.

Sometimes I dream of being brave. Of walking beside her in the light. But mostly, I just want to stay curled up in her lap, where the monsters can't find me and the only thing that matters is her voice saying, "I've got you, pup."

This is our story. The one no one's supposed to know.