5
After I unlock the door to my grandparents’ place, I twist the handle and open it as slowly and quietly as possible, hoping I can slip in unnoticed and pretend that I’ve been here all night. Instead of silence, I’m met with three short yips of a dog.
What the hell?
I pause for a second, wondering if I’m hearing things because my grandparents didn’t own a dog the entire time I was growing up and they don’t own one now.
But there it is again. Barking that tells me there’s definitely a dog somewhere in the house. I push the door all the way open and as soon as my foot hits the hardwood flooring of the entryway, I’m assaulted by one foot of fur ball.
One look at this dog and I can tell he’s trouble. He’s barking excitedly and bouncing up and down as if I have a raw steak shoved in my po
