The coming-home kiss

It used to be, when we lived in that other place before, that No. 1 stayed home and No. 2 tromped off in the day and came home just in time for dinner.

Now that we live here in this warm place, it’s No. 2 who stays home and No 1 gets dressed and goes away in her car in the day.

I stay home with No. 2 and keep him company while he taps-taps-taps on his computer all day. At about a certain time in the afternoon, I get a feeling, and I say to myself, ‘Self, I think it’s about time for No. 1 to come home.’ So I take up my station at the top of the stairs.

This is a good vantage point, because from there I can keep an eye on No. 2 and I can also see the front door and listen for the car.

Pretty soon I hear the car drive up and I hear the door shut, and I set up the barking! “She’s home! She’s home!” I bark at the top of my lungs. The door opens and there she is! I run down the stairs, barking her home.

Then I run to jump up on the back of the sofa.

Incoming!

She leans down and I give her a kiss!

Smooch!

And she gives me a liver treat. That’s the way it works.

If she’s talking too much when she comes in, or forgets, then I tag her heels giving her the big bright eyes until she remembers. It’s wonderful when No. 1 comes home, but it’s just not right if I don’t get liver.

Woofs,
Willie

Edited: January 24th, 2011