'Is there anyone else out there in the street,' she calls out, 'further up the street?'
'No,' I tell her, though there are many lights on in the many apartments on the opposite side of the street, 'just me,'
'Are you getting some photos?' she asks and I tell her no, that my camera, which I am holding, doesn't have a long enough lens.
Then for a few moments I stand quietly and bare-footed on the asphalt looking up at the dimming moon until Krista calls out - 'Can you hear that dog?' and I call back yes
'That's an unfamiliar dog, I haven't heard that dog before,' she says, 'The neighbours must have a new dog,'
Krista is highly aware of dogs and has 2 of her own.
One, a long-haired Dachshund with an eating disorder, is called Murphy, and the other is Gwyn a terrier with wiry white hair and separation anxiety.
I'm still looking up at the moon when Krista comes over and stands in the middle of the road next to me.
'I can see why primitive people worshiped the moon,' I say to Krista, 'what a mystery it must have been when it suddenly turned red without explanation. They must have been terrified, they must have shit in their pants,'
Krista and I laugh for a bit and then, for a few moments we watch the moon, which now looks like it's been injected in its side with dirty orange juice.
But before the eclipse is complete, Krista crosses her arms and starts walking back toward her porch.
'Are you not going to watch it all?' I ask her.
'Meh,' she says, 'I've seen it all before,'
Then, at the gate that leads to the porch, she turns and calls to me to be careful.
'Watch out that someone doesn't come up behind you, and you know...,'
'No one's going to take my camera,' I tell her.
'They'll take you AND the camera. And watch out for the coyotes. If they'll eat a dog, they'll have a try at you.' she tells me, keen for me to fear, for my own safety, something.