Ah, home.

The anticipation as the miles dwindle. That view from the rear of the truck as you bump over the last ramp. There’s that smell. The scent of knowing. Of knowing that this is where you belong, of knowing where every hole in the fence is and where every buried bone is, of understanding the routine of the day and knowing that’s its changeable like the weather. And like the weather, some days can be good and bad, but there’s a purpose behind everything you do and you do it in the environs that you love. The bush. The outback. The great outdoors.

It’s important to announce your return, so I barked. I barked for the last mile. Loudly and proudly, after all I was returning to my domain. Actually I barked so loudly that Nicole wound down the Toyota window and told me to sit down and shut up! But that didn’t dampen my enthusiasm. In the distance I could hear my half-sister, Jill. Her high-pitched whine morphed into excited barking which prompted me to let out a howl of delight. Strange isn’t it, but I only realised when I was out in the Long Paddock that I was actually quite fond of Jill, she of the dodgy genetics and of course, a single mum at an early age.

Single mum! I could hear the faint barking of another dog, a …. puppy. So then, they hadn’t all found good homes. Nicole and David must have relented and decided to keep one of Jill’s children. And so it begins again. The trials and tribulations of the younger generation. But not tonight. No I was determined that nothing would spoil my return. The puppy could wait till tomorrow.

Ah, the familiar sight of the first outbuildings, and then I saw it. The two-legged’s house first and slowly as the truck rounded the corner there it was. It was just a glimpse at first, but as the sun set the last rays spread across the bush, silhouetting the trees in a halo of pink and glinting prettily against the side of my home, my kennel.