Sirius and Laika

I’m used to the cold of the Moscow streets.
Few people stop and give me treats.
A sorry life but I never howl.
I’d find me a home but I don’t know how.
My fur is ordinary grey
But I’m not your ordinary stray.
My great-great-great (not sure how far)
Great-grandma Laika is a star. 
Just like that Sirius up there,
I swear.

She’s shivering, the poor old thing.
So cold and hungry, and so thin.
A sorry life but she never howls.
I’d find her a home but I don’t know how.
Like all things space, I’m very far
But I’m not your ordinary star:
The saviour star of dogs – they pray
To me just like this stray.
I may look distant but I care,
I swear.

Can’t hear me up there, can you, Sirius?
- I hear you.
You’re kidding.
- I’m serious.
You look like a tiny white spark.
- I hear every whimper and bark.
I’m light years away
But I’m looking your way.

Can’t help me down here, can you, Sirius?
- I’ll help you.
You’re kidding.
- I’m serious.
I knew you would not be unkind.
There’s someone I need you to find.
- I know who you mean
And she’s right next to me:
The bravest dog I’ve known so far,
The brightest star.

Another winter relents and retreats.
The little stray on the Moscow streets
Stays up all night and keeps her eyes
On a tiny spark in the silent skies.