Biscuit was old now.
His fur had gone grey around his nose and eyes.
He walked slowly, and his back legs were stiff most mornings.
But every single day, he still went to the front door.
He would sit there and stare at it.
He would sniff the air at the bottom of the door.
Then he would sigh and lie down and wait.
His owner, a woman named Ruth, always watched him do this.
It broke her heart every time.
“He’s waiting for Jake,” she told her neighbor one afternoon.
Jake was her son.
He had joined the army three years ago and went far away.
He called when he could, but it was never enough for Biscuit.
The dog just did not understand why his boy had gone.
Ruth got a phone call one Tuesday morning.
It was Jake.
“Mom,” he said, “I’m coming home.”
Ruth covered her mouth and started to cry.
Biscuit looked up at her from across the room.
He tilted his head to one side.
He could not know what was coming, but something felt different that day.
He walked back to the front door and sat down.
He did not move for a long time.
Two days later, a car pulled up outside the house.
Biscuit’s nose began to twitch wildly.
His old tail started to move, slowly at first.
Then faster and faster.
He pressed his nose hard against the door and whined.
Ruth opened the door with shaking hands.
There was Jake, standing on the path in his uniform.
He looked taller and older, but his smile was the same.
Biscuit froze for just one second.
Then he flew out the door.
He ran faster than he had run in years.
He jumped up and hit Jake right in the chest.
Jake fell back a step and laughed and grabbed the old dog tight.
Biscuit licked his face over and over.
He whimpered and cried in the way only dogs can.
His whole body shook with joy.
Jake buried his face in the grey fur and held on.
“I missed you too, buddy,” he whispered.
Ruth stood in the doorway and watched them.
She did not try to stop her tears.
Biscuit stayed glued to Jake’s side for the rest of that day.
He followed him to every room in the house.
He lay across Jake’s feet at dinner that night.
And when Jake fell asleep on the sofa, Biscuit climbed up slowly and curled up on his chest.
His old eyes closed.
His breathing went soft and calm.
For the first time in three years, Biscuit did not go to wait by the front door in the morning.
His soldier was home.
There was nothing left to wait for.