February 25, 2016

White Dog sounded the alert well before the others saw the lights from the car slide up the side windows. "Dad is home!"

She leaped up to stand on my shoulder and the arm of the chair; the leader's spot put her highest and able to see over the crowd and out of the door easily. The rest of the White Dog Army rushed the front door, singing and jockeying to be in the best position to be first to greet Steve when he walked in from his late night of teaching.

At the height of the frenzy, WD turned her head and spoke to me over her shoulder, "Look at that!" She gestured to the center of the Army where Opal, shy, timid little Opal, stood shoulder-to-shoulder singing along with the pack. Her tail wagged about 100 wags a minute. She was truly one of the White Dog Army at this moment.

Steve noticed me pointing before he turned the knob and walked through the door to be mobbed. Good thing. At the blizzard forward, Opal reached her limit on bravery and broke from the pack. But Steve saw her.

He made a point to quietly join her on her rug in the bedroom after the frenzy died down to thank her for such a warm greeting.