The morning broke softly over the little house, a cool November light spilling across the kitchen tiles. It was Remembrance Sunday. The kind of day where the world seemed to breathe a little slower, the air sharp and golden, the silence just a touch deeper. The sky wore a soft grey veil, and the faint scent of damp leaves drifted through the garden, still glistening with dew.
Beneath a mountain of blankets on the sofa, Athena stirred. She was an elegant, intelligent husky, her fur a perfect blend of, white, black and silver that shimmered like moonlight on snow. Two bright eyes blinked open, one the color of a summer sky, the other a rich chestnut brown, deep and thoughtful. She was soft-hearted and gentle by nature, but she also carried the unshakable stubbornness of royalty. Her humans often called her Princess, and she lived up to it in every possible way, especially when there was damp grass involved.
The human voice drifted through the air. “Come on, Athena. Time for your morning walk.”
Athena peeked out from her blanket cocoon, eyes narrowing. The word “walk” should have meant joy. Freedom. Adventure. But one glance outside, at the glittering wet garden, and she exhaled the most theatrical sigh imaginable. Her delicate paws, she decided, were not meant for such indignities.
And then, like a thunderclap of chaos, came the heavy-footed arrival of her younger brother, Obito. Barely a year old, Obito was everything Athena was not. Where she was graceful, he was clumsy. Where she was composed, he was chaos wrapped in fluff. His black and tan face, framed by a grey, cloudlike mane, seemed to always be smiling. His tan eyebrows wiggled expressively as he galloped into the room, nearly skidding into the table.
“Mornin’, sis!” he barked, tail thumping hard enough to rattle a photo frame. “It’s walk time! I’m ready! I’ve been ready for hours!”
Athena watched him silently, unimpressed. He had, she noted, already managed to step in his own water bowl. Twice. His oversized paws, her humans affectionately called him Mr. Toe Beans, were splattered with droplets that he didn’t even seem to notice.
“You’re dripping on my blanket,” she said, with the calm disapproval of a monarch addressing an unworthy jester.
He grinned, entirely unfazed. “That’s okay! It’s just water!”
“It’s filth,” she corrected.
Minutes later, the pair were outside. The world felt different that morning, hushed, reverent. The air was cold, brushing gently against their fur as they walked down the quiet lane. People were gathering by their doors, some placing wreaths of red poppies against the garden gates. The sound of a distant bell rolled through the air like a heartbeat.
Athena paused, watching the poppies sway. Their scarlet petals stood out like drops of flame against the dull November earth. She tilted her head, ears pricked.
“Why is everyone so quiet today?” she seemed to ask.
Their human crouched beside her, fastening a small red poppy charm to her collar. “Today,” they said softly, “we remember those who gave their lives, so that we could live ours in peace. So you could run, play, and feel safe. So the world could be kind again.”
Obito stood still beside them, for once perfectly silent. The wind ruffled his thick fur as he glanced at Athena, confused but sensing something solemn.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
And then the silence began.
It wasn’t an ordinary silence. It was deep and gentle and powerful. No birds sang. No cars passed. Even Obito, who could barely sit still for more than a heartbeat, stood motionless, his tail resting quietly against the ground. Athena lifted her head high, her mismatched eyes glinting. She didn’t fully understand what it meant, but she felt it, a weight, a gratitude, a sadness woven together.
Two minutes passed like a slow, golden tide. When the last chime faded, the world exhaled again.
As they walked home, Athena’s steps were careful now, deliberate. The grass still clung to her paws, cold and damp, but she didn’t seem to mind. Obito, thrilled by their outing, bounded through a puddle, splashing her completely. She froze, mud flecking her fur.
He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Princess. It was an accident.”
Athena looked at him for a long moment. Her usual sharp retort softened into something different. “It’s all right,” she said at last, shaking off the mud. “Some things are worth getting dirty for.”
Obito blinked. “Like food?”
She rolled her eyes. “Like remembering.”
He tilted his head, his big, silly grin returning. “Oh. Remembering’s good too.”
Later, in the warmth of home, the two of them curled up together on the rug. Outside, rain began to fall again, steady and quiet, like the heartbeat of the earth. Athena nestled into her blankets, her head resting gently on Obito’s shoulder. He was enormous now, almost as big as a small horse, yet still her baby brother. His breathing was slow and deep, his warmth seeping into her.
Athena stared at the poppy pinned to their human’s coat across the room. She didn’t know the names of the soldiers, the mothers, the fathers, the sons and daughters who had given everything. But she understood, in her own way, that they had loved deeply, and that love had built the peace she now lived in. The safety, the comfort, the home where she could chase her brother and nap in soft blankets without fear.
In that quiet moment, she imagined them, the brave souls who had stood in cold fields long before she was born, who had dreamed of mornings just like this one. Mornings where the world was calm, and laughter echoed through the houses again.
She thought of the poppies that grew where battle once raged. Flowers that bloomed from the earth where courage had fallen, turning grief into beauty.
Maybe, she thought, that’s what remembrance truly meant, not just silence, or ceremony, but living gently. Laughing freely. Loving fully. Keeping peace alive in the small moments: a shared blanket, a warm home, a wagging tail.
She closed her eyes and sighed softly. “Thank you,” she whispered into the quiet.
Obito snorted in his sleep beside her, letting out a comically loud snore that made her smile despite herself. The rain fell a little harder, pattering softly against the window, and the poppy on the table swayed as if bowing.
Athena tucked her nose under her paw, the faintest smile on her muzzle. She dreamed of poppy fields and soft skies, of laughter and love, and of the precious, fragile peace she would never again take for granted.
And as the house settled into evening, the two dogs slept side by side, the elegant Princess and her clumsy Love Bug, silent and safe beneath a sky full of remembrance.

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