This morning I walked out of the rental house carrying Wonderdog's crate. Hopper followed carrying a suitcase, and Wonderdog squeezed through the door before anyone could stop him. He followed us and stood, pathetically, watching us put things into the car.
"Do you want to get packed?" I asked him. "You can be packed now." I opened the door to the back seat just as Hopper was closing the trunk. Wonderdog made an Indiana Jones leap, aiming to get into the trunk, and bounced off the tailgate. Then he figured out the plan and got into the back seat to wait for us to finish packing.
When we got back to our house, I crashed on the couch. The rental house evidently had a bad case of dust mites (based on my allergic reaction) and I'm pumped full of Claritin which hasn't done much for my mental state. As soon as I hit the couch, Cat climbed on my chest and settled down on my neck to purr. She had been alone all weekend, after all, except for the gerbil. Cat's been following us around ever since.
There's nobody in this world who's as happy to see me as my pets.
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