At the east end of the village there was a small hill.
The hill was not high.
On top of it there was a flat place.
And on that flat place stood one old tree.
The tree was very old, but its branches were wide.
Every night the moon came up behind those branches.
First it was a small sliver, like a fingernail.
Then it was half.
Then it was whole.
Round and white and calm.
Everyone in the village knew that moon.
When the moon came up, it was time to go home.
The old men put away their pipes.
The children climbed up onto the warm brick bed.
Someone turned the lamp down low.
One door closed, and then another.
One lamp went out, and then another.
At the end there was only the sound of insects.
Nobody was left at the well.
The washing was hung up to dry.
The dog was asleep by the door.
The windows were dark.
The village was ready for sleep.
But something happened that night.
There was a big dog in the sky.
It was very big.
It was very soft.
Its fur was gray, and its tail was long.
It lived up on the clouds.
In the daytime it slept inside them.
Only at night did it get up and walk.
The clouds held it up.
It never touched the ground.
It had nowhere to be.
It walked slowly.
It looked east, and then it looked west.
At night it liked to watch the earth.
It liked the small lights down there.
It liked the roofs, and the rivers, and the roads.
And that night, it saw the moon.
It had never seen anything so round.
It wondered what it was.
Maybe it was a bowl.
Maybe it was a lamp.
Maybe it was something to eat.
So it came a little closer.
It sniffed it.
It licked it.
Then it opened its mouth and took one small bite.
A corner of the moon was gone.
The sky looked strange and thin.
Down in the village, someone looked up.
“The moon is missing a piece!”
“The moon is missing a piece!”
One voice called out, and then two.
Then everyone came outside.
They came out in their sleeping clothes.
The children came out too.
They brought brass basins.
They brought wooden bowls.
They brought the lids of their pots.
And they tapped them, gently.
Ding, ding, ding.
Dong, dong, dong.
Three taps on the east side.
Three taps on the west.
The children clapped along.
They were not scolding the dog.
They were only saying: that is not for eating.
Up in the sky, the big dog heard them.
It stopped and thought.
Its ears moved once.
Then it let its mouth go.
The moon slid out.
It was still whole and round.
Slowly, it rolled back.
It rolled over one cloud.
And it rolled over another cloud.
The missing corner was filled.
The moon was round again.
It looked brighter than before.
The village looked brighter too.
The dog watched it for a while.
Then it yawned.
It lay down on a soft cloud.
It curled its tail over its nose.
And it went to sleep.
The clouds went on moving under it.
Down in the village, the basins were put away.
The shadow of the old tree lay on the wall.
The last door closed.
The last lamp went out.
The moon shone on the roofs.
It shone on the road out of the village.
And on every little puddle by the door.
A cat sat on a windowsill.
The cat looked at the moon as well.
Then the cat closed its eyes.
In China, people call this the dog eating the moon.
Some say it is a dog.
Some say it is a big toad.
Nobody is angry at it.
When the moon hides, families come outside.
They tap their basins and their bowls.
They tap, and they tap.
And the moon comes back.
The moon always comes back.
Behind every cloud, it is still round.
People in China have told this story for a very long time.
It is an old Chinese folktale.
It is also a gentle Chinese fairy tale.
And it is still a favorite Chinese bedtime story for children.
Now it is time to close your eyes.
Good night, big dog.
Good night, moon.
This is a very old Chinese bedtime story. It is not long, and it is very gentle. Best read slowly, with the lights low.
