I could feel it the moment I stepped outside—today was the day. I was headed straight for them. I wasn’t in a rush, but I was excited. Every step, every paw on the pavement, made my heart beat a little faster. They were waiting for me. I passed the bakery, the old oak tree, the park bench. But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t here for any of that. I was here for them. I could smell them now, faintly in the air—earthy, warm, like rain. I quickened my pace. Finally, I reached their front door. I tapped my paw against it, just enough to get their attention.

I stood there, tail wagging, eyes shining, waiting.
When they opened the door, I could barely contain myself. I jumped straight into their arms, pressing against them, breathing in the scent of home I nuzzled them, my tail thumping against the porch, and I had to say it, had to make sure they knew: “I missed you. You’re the best part of my day.”

I pulled back, just enough to look them in the eyes. “I’m yours. Always.”
I didn’t need anything else. I was home.