It's Good to Be Home

For ten days I lived dog-less in Montpelier, attending a workshop at my graduate program. I spent a lot of sleepless nights in Vermont. The problem was I’m so accustomed to sleeping with dogs that sleeping without them was close to impossible.

For the first few days, I tried every trick in the book, such as tucking pillows around my body or piling on an extra weighty blanket. Nothing worked. Most nights, I woke up sometime pre-dawn, reached for Adriana, then realized with a start she wasn’t there. It was those dark, jolting moments when I missed my pack most of all.

The problem towards the end of my stay wasn’t so much sleeping without the dogs, but the anticipation of seeing them again. Every time I thought about it, a flock of butterflies erupted in my stomach. The night before I flew home was the worst. I was like a kid on Christmas, wishing away every passing minute.

On my first night back, I turned the thermostat down to 65 degrees, making sure the bedroom was nice and frosty, then invited our mutts onto the bed. I slept for ten straight hours, cocooned by the warm safety of five cuddling dogs. It’s good to be home