🐾 Part 4 — Home Is Where the Paw Prints Are

When we finally stopped moving boxes, Mom said, “We’re home.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant at first. Everything smelled different — new floors, new corners, no familiar squeaks in the doors. I did my patrol: living room, kitchen, hallway… everything in order, except no smells of us yet.

So, I fixed that. I rubbed my shoulders against the couch, rolled on the rug (for scent purposes, obviously), and dropped one toy in every room — strategic placement to declare ownership. Bonya supervised from the windowsill, his tail flicking like a general inspecting troops.

“Are we done yet?” he asked.

“Almost,” I said. “Still need to approve the couch.”

Elza jumped straight onto the bed like it was her throne and sighed dramatically: “Finally. My beauty rest can continue.”

Enzo did zoomies through the hallway — he said it was a “stability test.”

Milton ran a few laps in the backyard, sniffed every fence corner, and proudly announced, “Perimeter secured.”

And Luci? She sat by the back door, nose tilted toward the mountains, breathing deep. “It’s different,” she said softly. “But good different.”

As for me — I stayed close to Mom, like always. She looked tired but happy, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee, surrounded by boxes and fur tumbleweeds that had already formed. I leaned my head on her shoulder. That’s when it hit me.

Home wasn’t the old couch or the yard we left behind. It wasn’t the smell of the old neighborhood or even the big tree where the squirrels lived. Home was right there — wherever Mom and Dad were.

Because when you move, it’s not about losing the old — it’s about bringing your heart along for the new.

Bonya yawned. “You’re getting sentimental again,” he muttered.

“Maybe,” I said, “but it’s true.”

He paused, stretched, and purred quietly. “Well… as long as my favorite blanket made it, I’ll call this home too.”

The house grew quiet. Boxes sat half-open, moonlight drifted across the floor, and everyone — dogs, cat, and humans alike — finally relaxed. It didn’t smell like home yet, but it felt like it.

And I knew, by morning, it would smell like cookies again. 🍪