It took me several minutes to herd the White Dog Army into the house so that I could close the door to the sunporch and answer the front door. In the meantime, the Army offered a musical score that alternated between protective threats and and excited welcomes.
I finally threw open the door to startle a young delivery man avoiding getting too close to the pulsing white that filled the windows. "Yes?"
"I got your pizza order." The WDA surged and sang at the prospects of an evening treat while we waited for Steve's return.
""We did not order any pizza." At least, I thought, I did not and cast a look at White Dog clawing like a mad dog at the window.
"Family size, chicken, mushrooms, green chilies, extra cheese?"
"As tempting as that sounds, not ours." The cries from inside were "She is mistaken. Don't listen to that crazy lady. It was MEANT for us!"
"206?" "Sorry, next door." "Oh, sorry for bothering you."
The howl began again, this time a dirge of lament.
No dog would look at me when I made my way back inside and sat down. Puff rested her head on YoYoMa's back. "SO close," he sighed.