Joel is home! That’s the best part. No long days of waiting by the window, no staring at the door wondering when he’ll come back. He’s here — every morning, every afternoon — and that makes my tail wag harder than anything else.
I stick close to him. He’s my boy, my best friend. I watch while he plays with those little Lego guys, moving them around like they’re alive. I don’t really understand them, but I understand him — the way his face lights up, the way he talks to them like they’re part of his world. I stay near, just in case he needs me. It’s my job to protect him, to make sure nothing ever hurts him.
The house feels fuller with him here. Everyone is painting, laughing, talking. I don’t mind the mess or the smell of paint — it’s worth it, because it means Joel is happy. Jeremiah sits with me sometimes, but really I’m keeping one eye on Joel the whole time.
And then there was Fort Harrison — oh, what a day! The air was cold and sharp in my nose, and the ground was full of new smells I’d never sniffed before. Joel ran ahead on the trail, and I ran after him, keeping pace, making sure he was safe. The trees stretched tall above us, and the world felt wide and free. It wasn’t just another walk — it was an adventure, the kind that fills my paws with energy and my heart with joy. Having Joel there beside me made it perfect.
Life feels good when Joel is home. I don’t know how long it will last — dogs don’t count days the way people do — but I know these moments are special. Maybe fun always slips away, like running water I can’t catch in my paws. But I believe it will come back again, every time Joel walks through that door. As long as I have him, there’s always hope.
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