Max Returns Home

Each time Max went outside yesterday he’d walk by the door of Matrix and just wait there a second before I tugged him along.  He’d pooped in a foreign land, there were strange dogs, and he wanted to go home.  He doesn’t ask much.  As I gathered up my things to depart Ventnor City and bid farewell to its denizens who I would miss Max raised his exhausted head from in front of the box fan that had made his day liveable and bounded for the door that he had previously bowled through.

He lay down in the back of my car, and didn’t much move for the entire trip, probably thinking that sticking close would reduce wind resistance and get him home faster.  We made record time as the roads were under capacity and Max sprang to activity upon seeing our mailbox.  He exited the car, popped, and went inside to lie down on his dog mat.  Normally, when someone arrives, Max greets them with a sock.  For the entire afternoon, every time the front door opened, Max just shifted his eyes back and forth as a miser guarding his gold while holding tight to his dog mat.