Kristina and Matt are getting ready to leave the country for months on end, and there seems to be an endless supply of presents for me.
A delivery person arrives almost daily and gives me a box.
I can hear him coming, step by step, along the dock . . . I can tell by the smell it’s him.
“He’s here. He’s here,” I bark.
Kristina opens the door for me and let’s me greet him. The guy comes so often he knows my name.
He hands over my present. “Thanks,” I bark.
Kristina always takes out whatever is in the box, like I care. But then . . . I get to rip the box apart, making a mess, shredding cardboard. The sound is so satisfying.
Once I’m done, I just have to wait until he comes back with my next box. Who knows why I keep getting presents, but Kristina says it’s something about no stores where we are going and we have to get prepared.