Handsome Pete and the Cosmic Sailboat

Handsome Pete and the Cosmic Sailboat

We sailed high tides, just me and Handsome Pete. We were guided only by the eternal winds of change as we sailed across the cosmic sea. We glided down an ethereal wormhole, traveling through time and space. When our sails flapped against the oceanic pitter patter of starry magnificence, I would brush my hair back and bask in its primordial breeze. Handsome Pete rode beside me, a bashful Jack Russel Terrier, with black, wiry hair and pearly white teeth. He began each day, the same as the one before it—with no recollection and not a care in the world. There were no alarm clocks or deadlines, nor arbitrary rules to bog Petey down. As far as he was aware, he was just as much the breeze as the wind and sails—and so he leaned into it and followed its gentle flow.

He woke with each sunrise, letting out a wiggle of his tush and a big stretch from limb to limb. Then he’d buzz about the hull, shimmying his tail as he boogied across the starboard floor. He would twirl around for a few rotations, sprint up the stairs to get to the top deck. Then he would spend the day chasing the moon fish and angel bee’s that swam the electric currents above our heads. And in the evenings, Handsome Pete would just gaze at the stars for hours, allowing the dazzling images to flutter across his marble blue eyes. 

But Handsome Pete was not simply a happy-go-lucky ray of blissful sunshine. There were plenty of days where he did not have much care for dancing at all. “No, not today” he would say with contempt, flashing his belly in the air. And in those days, with his head pressed against the bow, he would simply lie there and ponder underneath the canopy of stars.

The ponderous pup would ask the same question, “How, universe? How can it be? How can my tiny little paw print be seen amongst this enormous canvas of heaven’s great masterpiece?” 

And I would always walk by and tussle his furrowed little brow. I’d kneel down and ease his nerves, saying “Hey there, pal—look at the masterpiece we all take part in shaping out. Look at it, Petey. It’s not up or over but simply all around. Look how even your tiny little paw print has a part to play in shaping this beautiful landscape we have”. 

And then he’d smile and I’d smile too. And from there, when the melancholy pup was revived from his disdainful dread, he would jump up and bark at the sky to alert me of a new school of critters just above our heads. I would grab the rods and skyliner poles to begin collecting our daily dose of dewdrop slugs and galaxy juice. I'd thank the heavens for a glorious sacrifice, and then crack the slug to suck up the primordial stew. I’d drink half, and then throw the other on the deck to allure Handsome Pete. He’d dart up the stairs and scarf it down, sipping that glorious space slug treat. 

But then he’d begin to mope—coming to the stark realization that the same little slug was once a living being. He would always sulk and think to himself “How dare I take advantage of this poor little soul. That scrumptious snack I ate used to be a precious life form, just like me. I bet he liked basking in the solar rays and gazing at the moons. I bet he loved to swim and play and feel the flow of the eternal stream just like I do”. And then he would start to whimper, realizing what tragedy his joy had caused. But every time, I would work with all my might to remind that pup of the natural way these winds will blow. I scratched his tummy, tousled his scruff, and told him that the little slug’s joys, delights, wisdom, and humility can now be descended onto someone else.  

“The world is ever-evolving, Petey. That slug carried through him the lives and memories of a thousand previous slugs. Each generation, like the one before it. Giving itself to the divine, that sweet slug keeps these cool winds blowing and these cosmic rivers flowing. We are all doing it, boy. We are all just enjoying a simple game of fetch.  And when we have had our turn, we will take the stick, and fetch it to the next".

Pete would always smile, his tongue yo-yo’d up and down. He would slap his chops and pick up his head just before it descended back down into my lap. Once he got settled for a moment, he would shuffle his little body up my side and nestle his snout into my arm. Then he would just snuggle there beside me on the floor for a while, watching the passing nebula clouds. Sharing this voyage with such a sweet and gentle soul, I was left feeling so abundantly proud. We traveled together for what felt like a moment and an eternity, all the same. We were always mesmerized by the strange and swirly ride we took together through that cosmic cave. 

But eventually that river guided us down a strange new path. I woke up one day, and I could see the shrouding of a neon nebula fog. Our sails began to tatter as we sputtered out of control. Handsome Pete could not remember what was now nor what was before. He would dart around in circles, chasing the nothing that he so believed was there. And that Handsome Pete began to grow more gentle, spending less mornings on his prances and more of them in bed. Now, his days were largely taken up by bumps into railings and unprovoked tinkles of pee. He was a silly little man, but I could see it start to drift one day. The cosmic radiance that bursted like lightning when he was a pup, I could see beginning to dim. And with each day, he let it pass, ignoring the neon nebulas and illuminescent flares of galactic delight. He would huff and moan and whimper, as his body was beginning to have enough.

One day, he could no longer jump, nor could he see any motive in sprinting for that half-eaten slug. He lost that flare but the spark still lingered. At least for a few more gorgeous tours across the neon skies, he remained with me in that sailboat. We had some time to float. But eventually I could see it in that whitened face and shriveled brow. I could see his snout bello and his legs grow thin. From sunken shoulders and depleted limbs, I knew it was his time. Handsome Pete was ready to release the stick. 

And so I saw it, and I spent days in my cabin, just sulking and feeling dull. I couldn’t be strong, no matter how much I tried.  I lost all sense of composure for some days. Other days I just whistled along, pretending this ride on the floating spaceship had not taken us down this strange new course. But eventually that day came, the one I was avoiding the most. When the tides began to sunder and the stream reached a frostridden gulf, I grabbed that rudder and tried with all my might to turn our precious ship around and quickly change our course. But I had failed. And it came all the same. We were now sailing a cosmic grave of deserted dwarf planets and fossilized moons. Gods who lie marooned there left bones and mallets in the field of the untouched and unknown. It was on that day, that tragic drift into a frozen sea, that the icy desolation had chilled my poor Petey’s big heart. 

We sat there once more on that deck, staring at the fractal skies and milky seas. We gazed at it one last time, just Petey and me. Then he hopped on my chest and licked my cheeks for the first time in several months. The life of that precious dog had returned for just one last hop. And then we sat there slowly, as the cold had caressed his veins. And like the thousands of beings before him, Handsome Pete returned to the stars from whence he came. 

I wept. I wept. And I wept for weeks on end. I wept for what felt like months, years, even centuries as I thought of my old friend. “Where did my puppy go? Is he safe? Is he unharmed? Was this really the way of things? Was the wind blowing us on the right course all along? Was everything I thought I knew, of life and of death--was it all backed by science, or was it just an educated guess? It’s easy to believe in the beauty of life and its evolving, infinite flow. It’s so much easier to believe it when you are not face to face with the end of the road” I don’t remember when it started but it felt like it would never stop. And in my never-ending weeping, I continued to drift through that gulf with his body in my arms.

Until one day, when we drifted through a storm. A massive hurricane of solar flares and colliding rock had knocked me astray. The sails ripped clean from the mast, as the bow rammed itself into a frost moon; a foul consequence of its delirious battle with the bitter space storm. I planted myself on the floor, holding Petey’s body in my hands, and I cried some tears of terrified excitement, as I reckoned I was about to meet him once again. But a wave of starry dust shrouded our bodies, left me wet, and mildly annoyed. In its clutches, it scooped up Petey’s remains--and just like that, it was just me. I was ransacked. The cosmic sailboat was ravished by the gargantuan waves. So I found a tarnished wooden door floating by, and used it as a raft. Then, I found a small chunk of plank, most likely left over from the tarnished mast, and used it to paddle my way across the sea. I paddled on and I felt so weak.  “Come on, cosmos, come and take me!” I shouted, tilting my head into the cloudy pools of galactic soup, I begged and pleaded to finally give up. 

But before I felt I could take no more, Handsome Pete returned from the shining stars above me. His body was reborn as a constellation glowing in the vast night sky. I could even see his pawprint, as large as the Great God’s eye. “Thank you, papa. Thank you for all the wisdom and for all the love. Thank you for reminding me of our unified consciousness, and how we are never truly gone. For when our breaths are shortened and our sails are tattered and torn, our rudders and our floorboards float to take on all new forms''. Handsome Pete was there with me, in the stars and in the breeze. As I docked my raft on a newfound world, I felt him float around me. And as he passed that desolate gulf, I looked up into the stars. There I watched my precious Petey sail into the great beyond.