e Tom standing by the entrance,

og, with a sense of purpose, padded along the shoreline toward the beach police station. The constable there might hold answers—perhaps not written in the stars, but etched in the everyday rhythms of the coast.

As Dog approached the station, he saw Constable Tom standing by the entrance, his uniform crisp against the backdrop of the sea. Tom was a sturdy man, his eyes weathered from years of patrolling the beachfront. He greeted Dog with a nod, his gaze lingering on the horizon.

“Morning,” Tom said, his voice carrying the salt-kissed air. “What brings you here, my furry friend?”

Dog sat, his tail sweeping the sand. “I seek wisdom,” he replied. “The kind that whispers through the waves and rustles in the palm fronds.”

Tom chuckled. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. The beach holds its secrets, and sometimes, the constables listen.”

And so, as the sun climbed higher, Dog and Tom shared stories—the constellations they’d seen, the tides that carried memories, and the quiet conversations between earth and sky. Wisdom, it seemed, flowed not only from the stars but from the constables who walked dog said i wish the constable had no name only policeman to be not quiet confused with some one else willie the giant said