no place like home.

i have moved a lot in my life. if i were to count up all the houses and apartments i've lived in, i know it would be more than 25 but less than 30. i'm 28. that's a lot, right?

in case you missed it, i bought a house last month. i'm living in a house that is mine and is (semi) permanent. the idea of something constant, and long term, baffles my mind every once in a while, when i really stop to think about it. it's a weird, but wonderful, thing to get used to- the idea of constant. coming 'home' has never really held any special feelings of comfort and love or nostalgia for me, really... i think i've learned that houses are just places, and stuff is just stuff; i can be comfortable in most any circumstances, and really, only my mom's house comes close to holding the special 'ahhh, i'm home' feeling.

that is, until jola.

in the past five years, i've lived on lindon dr, kearney st, dahlia st and now spruce st. and in all of those four places, jola has been there to greet me when i come home. on lindon, i could here her barking through the door, and she would come up and sniff my legs. on kearney, she would wait behind the glass door, soaking in the west-setting sun in her typical 'frog-dog' pose, legs splayed out on either side. at dahlia, she would jump off my bed and run to the door, stopping to salute me with downward and then upward dog, all the while being harrassed by jumping myla-bean. now at spruce, she trots over to the door and sticks her head close to me, sometimes stretching into her dog yoga, other times just sniffing my hands. since myla is now in her cage when i come home to spruce, i get a few minutes of solid kaci and jo-jo time, where i can get on the ground and scratch her behind the ears and rub her tummy like she likes, all without crack-dog myla running around us. my roommates have told me too, that if they are home, they know i'm on my way home when they see jola just go stand at the door and wait. a few minutes later, i unlock the door. she just knows.

at every house, jola greets me, excited for me to be home, finally. no matter how hard or great my day was, no matter what a rush i am in or how grateful i am to be home, jola welcomes me with open paws and loving, chocolate eyes.

and now, i get the greeting times two: myla loves when i come home and will wiggle up to me, jumping her front paws on my thigh and stretching, her own vertical version of downward dog. her big brown princess eyes look up at me and she licks me, tiny little licks like she's playing a game and doesn't want to get caught. then she snuggles up close to my ankles and wiggles around, almost like a cat, and then wiggles outside to follow jola. 

since i've bought the house, people have been asking if i know this house is my 'home' and if i'm settled in... to me, that's an easy question, since it's just a house, it's just a place i stay; i don't really care what door i walk into at the end of the day, as long as the wiggling, stretching, chocolate-eyed looks are what greet me.