He pulled on a loose pair of jeans and a T-shirt and we headed downstairs. A little bark and a fluff of white came running toward me and I knelt down to catch Barney in my lap. “Hey, little doggle. How’s my boy?” I swear sometimes this dog acted like I was a soldier coming back from war, because he would wrap his paws around my neck and lick me, holding on for dear life if I didn’t forcibly remove him. I couldn’t stop a giggle as he growled at me when I stood up. “What? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Bark. “I missed you too, buddy.” “I fed him,” Pauley said, and headed toward me, pulling me in for a gentle hug. “How are you feeling?” “Better. Thanks for taking care of Barney.” “It’s all good, honey.” “Sit down, Darien, and I’ll find breakfast,” Mack said. “I put on a pot of coffee,” Pauley piped in. “Don’t know if I did it right, but it should be almost done.” “Thanks, babe.” Mack waited until I sat on one of the sofas before he made his way to the kitchen.
