The Return Home
The drive back from the clinic was the polar opposite of the drive there. Instead of a heavy, silent weight in the back seat, Max was sitting up, his nose pressed against the window, watching the world go by with renewed wonder. Sarah felt like she was breathing for the first time in months. She kept looking in the rearview mirror, half-expecting him to vanish, terrified that this was all a beautiful dream.
When they arrived at home, Sarah didn’t let him out immediately. She took a can of industrial-strength yard spray and a tick-prevention collar she’d bought on the way home. She realized now that the beautiful, overgrown ivy in her new backyard had been a breeding ground for the parasites. She felt a pang of guilt, but she pushed it aside. She had been given a second chance, and she wasn’t going to waste a second of it.
She helped Max out of the car. He walked up the porch steps—slowly, one at a time, but under his own power. He went straight to his favorite sun-drenched spot on the rug in the living room and let out a deep, contented groan as he settled down. He looked around the room, his tail giving a soft thump-thump-thump against the floorboards. He was home, and the “Comfort Suite” was a lifetime away.
