The Unmatched Feeling of a Dog Greeting You at the Door

I got home at 4:47 and I knew that was 17 minutes later than usual. I still hadn’t parked the car when I caught a glimpse of Cooper’s face, eyes on the prize. With his front paws on the window and his back paws on the floor. I could see him leap from the window and dash to the door. He was wagging his tail so fast that it looked like he was about to take off.

When I opened the door, he smacked his nose into my palm. No jumps, No barks. He was just there. Waiting and certain. One of my longest shifts had been in the back of my mind the whole time I was gone. He acted like I had just been gone for 8 weeks.

I went into the kitchen to find my husband. He said, “He’s been at the window for the last 20 minutes.”

20 minutes? Copper is a wizard. He had somehow known I was coming before I had even turned on my street.

I have never felt this much happiness from a single person in my entire life. Not my husband. Not my friends. Not even Juniper. Best friend goals? Maybe not. She sits on the other side of the room and stares into the abyss. If I go away for even a few minutes, I will at best get a slow blink and maybe a tail flick.

Copper makes me feel like I really am the highlight of his day. And maybe that’s true.

Today, Copper was leaning on my leg and letting out a huge sigh when I arrived home, like he’d been holding his breath since my departure. I considered this to be instinctual behavior, including him in my train of thought. Greeting a pack member is a behavior often displayed by wolves. I think there is definitely some truth to that, but something about this behavior never feels like instinct.

I’ve had days where I felt I went completely unnoticed, and my tasks were never responded to, and I went entire meetings where no one spoke to me. It made me wonder if I mean anything to anyone.

But Copper doesn’t care about any of that.

When I walk in the door, it doesn’t matter how many emails I answered or how many items I checked off my to do list, I already did enough because I came home.

Certainly my husband is here to welcome me home too. He will make small talk and give me a hug if he thinks it’s needed. The difference with dogs is that there is no parity. With Copper, he gives the same enthusiasm whether he has that energy to give or not, and that is not the case with people, even people you care about.

I understand that this won’t last forever. He’s 12 now, and some days he doesn’t get to the door as quickly as he used to. Sometimes he hears the car and tries to get up, but his legs seem to take an eternity to get going and by the time he is up, I have already walked inside. I appreciate the effort, and I know time is short where he will still be able to do this.

I don’t rush past him anymore. I don’t just give him an awkward head pat and walk to the kitchen to start making dinner. I stop. I kneel down. I let him take as long as he needs because, yes, I really am here, and yes, I am really home.

“Hi buddy. I missed you too,” I say as I rest my hand on his shoulder.

And I mean every word of it. As much as he has been waiting for me, I have been waiting to come home to this. To a greeting that is genuine and uncomplicated and exactly what I needed even when I didn’t know it.