“How many stars are in the sky?” Fleegle asks, sprawling on his back in the yard at night.

“More than you can see,” I say, sitting by the fire pit. “There are even more that are so far away they are too dim to see without a telescope.”

Fleegle’s eyes shimmer in the firelight. “Do they have planets too, like our sun?”

“Some do. Did you know it rains diamonds on Saturn?”

“Diamonds are boring,” Fleegle says. “Now if you told me it rains taco grease, that would be useful information. I’d work for the sanitation department.” He slicks back his whiskers with his tongue. “I’d get a job as a street cleaner.”

“And I’d get a job as a dog groomer.” I scratch my head. “Or maybe that would be a dog degreaser, shampoo you with Palmolive.”

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