The little house was far too quiet. It was missing the sound of big paws and the thump-thump of Fofuxo's tail hitting the floor.
That morning, he had crossed the hill to get seeds at the market on the other side of the valley. Before leaving, he gave Pigúiça a little nose kiss on the forehead and promised: “I'll be back when the first star lights up.”
Pigúiça made the most of the day. She played with Bolota, drew a picture in the dirt, ate her cookie. But the sun kept sinking, the sky turned pink and then purple, and still no Fofuxo.
She sat in the window and her tummy tied itself in a little knot. “What if he got lost? What if the road is too long? What if...”
A flower that lived on the windowsill, one of those that answer when you come near, opened one petal eye. “Did he promise?” it asked. “He promised,” said Pigúiça. “Does he always keep his promises?” Pigúiça thought.
She remembered the time Fofuxo promised to teach her to sniff out trails, and he did. She remembered the time he promised to stay next to her in the dark, and he did. “Always,” she answered. “Then he's coming,” said the flower, and closed its little eye.
Waiting was still hard. But Pigúiça discovered that waiting with busy paws is easier. So she made Fofuxo's bed, next to hers, and smoothed out his blanket. She filled his bowl with fresh water. And she painted, with a paw full of paint, a sign: WELCOME HOME, FOFUXO.
The sky grew a little darker. Still no star. Pigúiça took a deep breath and kept watching, her blue eyes wide open.
And then, up in the corner of the sky, one tiny light twinkled. “The first star!” she whispered.
She held her breath and listened. Far, far away came a little sound: tup... tup... tup... One big paw, one big paw, one big paw. And, at the bend in the road, there was Fofuxo, with a bag of seeds on his back, tired and smiling.
Pigúiça ran and almost knocked him over with joy. “Did I get here on time?” he asked. “You came when the first star lit up,” she said. “I promised,” said Fofuxo, and hugged her with his snout.
After dinner, the two of them sat outside and watched a friendly star that twinkled slowly, up in the sky. Fofuxo told her about his day, in a low voice: the market, the seeds, a turtle who sold peppers.
Pigúiça didn't hear the end. She leaned her head against him and closed her eyes, knowing something very simple: those who love and promise always come back, even if the road is long.
Up above, the star winked once more. And the little house wasn't too quiet anymore. It had the calm sound of two hearts sleeping.
