Coydog Chalcedony--Puppies

   
   "Coydog Chalcedony--Puppies"
   
   Celestine cruised home, her coydog pal dreaming of having puppies, or so Celestine thought, noticing there seems to be no more garden-variety coyotes, like folks, we're all so mixed, some shaken and some stirred.
   But it was the simplicity of the dog; moreover, the loyalty that defied ideas of consciousness, and while dogs possessed such in her mind, so did they have a conscience, for a dog sometimes feels guilty after he pees on your STAR WARS sleeping bag.  Celestine knew androids have consciousness, from a certain point of view, and even if they develop a conscience; still, there's always a way to manipulate empathetic forces, until the snowman from Hoth touches their heart.
   Celestine pulled up in her gravel driveway, glimpsing the glare of a setting Sun and the Moon hiding, but showing a real rise.  It was rural.  It was country--bucolic beauty did she appreciate, away from the high-speed stupidity of lazy, so unlike coyote spirit, which is fast too, yet has the purpose of making us all laugh, even at ourselves.  
   Thus, before she exited the car, she popped a zit, and its semi-toxic fluid splattered the rear-view mirror.  She cleaned it up, and was glad to not wear the mask of make-up, like back-in-the-day, when high school morphed her self-absorbed, forgetting nature without cell phone towers. 
   Cody the coydog followed her into a pastoral habitat, tail wagging.