Home for the Howlidays: When the Pack Comes Back

I can always tell when something big is about to happen. The house smells different — a sweetness in the air like cinnamon sugar mixed with a faint whiff of anticipation. My hooman makes many trips inside and out, bringing in bags and bags of groceries. So many snacks that she has to store some on the back porch. Luckily, Michigan is basically one giant refrigerator this time of year, so we have plenty of space — bring on the treats!

I take my position on my stool to monitor the driveway. I don’t need a tracker or pinging reminder — I can feel the joy filling the air. When the cars rumble down our drive, the vibration sends excitement all the way to my tail. And when that door finally swings open and I hear, “I’m hooooome!” the house explodes with noise. I leap as high as I can, trying to get a lick at my brothers. The once-empty mudroom fills instantly with coats, boots, and shoes — all carrying new scents from the places they’ve been. Boxes and bags pile up behind them, signaling something even better than treats: the pack is back!

Magically, the house transforms in an instant, and I’m surrounded by all my favorite hoomans — all barking at once. It’s my favorite sound in the world. Tail-wag mode flips to maximum power, and my whole body wiggles. I’m smiling so big I can’t keep my tongue from spilling out.

But this year, things are a bit different. The pack… has grown.

My old sweetheart came home with my brother. She looks cuddlier than ever — and with her comes Disco. He’s all legs, wiggles, and unstoppable enthusiasm. He zooms in like a giant snowstorm and makes a beeline for my toy basket. He always chooses my favorite bone first. I’m overjoyed he’s here… but that is still my bone. A slow growl bubbles up in my belly, but I swallow it down.

Soon, the living room is a swirl of fur and toys. The house feels smaller (in a good way), and I push the irritation of sharing aside. Before long, Disco and I are chasing each other around the dining room wall. We romp outside through the snow, and I take him down my favorite hiking trail. I teach him how to sneak extra treats, and he shows me how to give a paw for extra “awwww.” The hoomans cannot resist us, and honestly… it’s more fun melting their hearts with my buddy beside me.

Later, when the house finally quiets, I try to squeeze onto the couch. Between my brothers, my sweetheart, and Disco, there’s hardly any room left. Disco has claimed my favorite pillows. I flop onto the floor with a dramatic sigh, feeling a little forgotten.

Just then, my sweetheart notices. She scoots Disco over and pats a spot on the couch. “Come here, Jack Jack,” she whispers. I jump at the invitation — and instead of the arm of the couch, I choose her lap. She’s just as warm and snuggly as I remember.

As I drift off to the sound of holiday music and hooman laughter, I replay the day. My paws twitch as I dream of racing through the snow with my supersized pack. The chatter of my favorite hoomans fills the house, and I hear Disco snoring softly. That’s when I realize…family doesn’t just come home for the holidays. Sometimes… it grows.

So friends, as your pack reunites for the howlidays, you may find you have to give up some of the things you’re used to. Just scooch over and make a little space. I don’t love sharing my bone (or my couch), but when the family grows, we have to grow too. Things won’t stay exactly the same as before — and honestly, they might become even better.

Soon enough, the house will fall quiet again. The mudroom will return to order without all those extra coats and shoes. The pack will split up and wander down their individual trails. But the memories of squeezing together and making room for new love will warm your heart long after the twinkly lights fade.

When the pack gets bigger, the love gets louder.

I hope your couch is full this howliday season.
I’ll bark at you in the new year.

Your friend,