August 7, 2012

White Dog and the rest of the White Dogs are waiting. Their patience is exhausted. It is a late night and there is still another half hour before the magic time of 11:15 when Steve walks through the door.

The White Dog Army has been good filling the day as we cleaned some files, did some work for the Walk to End Cancer, and did a bit of shopping for dad's upcoming birthday. We weathered a loud thunderstorm even as we worried that Steve was out in the rain and not safely with the Pack. We ate dinner alone and napped a lot to while away the very long hours.

Sometimes the WDA gave into temptation and stood in anticipation at the front door wagging at every headlight that passed. We were extra kind to YoYoMa who hates thunder, and to Quinn who is having a manic evening. Oso once again rearranged the dog beds in the office as a surprise for when Steve returns.

I kept an eagle eye on the Army for everypup is licking their legs raw and we have yet to figure out what environmental factor is causing it. So I watch, grab an offender before things go too far and wash the spot  thoroughly. I then apply the medicated anti-itching cream Dr. Julia prescribed...which lasts for a few hours. I continue my watch because it is guaranteed that another WDA member will succumb to nibbling and licking furs in short order. And now I, too, am ready for Steve to be home...to share the watching...to reunite the pack...to calm the anxious Army.

The sweetest sound of the night are my words at the sound of Pumpkin pulling into the drive, "Dad is home!"