The moment Linda heard the familiar footsteps outside, her whole body reacted before her mind did. Her ears lifted, her eyes widened, and suddenly she was running—fast, clumsy, unstoppable. Her tiny feet hit the ground in quick taps as she raced toward the doorway, her heart bursting with excitement.
Mom was back from work.
Linda didn’t slow down. She didn’t hesitate. She ran with everything she had, her little arms swinging wildly, her mouth open in a happy cry. All the waiting, all the quiet hours without Mom, disappeared in that single rush forward. Nothing mattered except reaching her.
Mom barely had time to put her bag down before she saw Linda coming. The sight made her laugh and tear up at the same time. Such a small body, such big love. She bent down just in time as Linda crashed gently into her legs, clinging tightly as if afraid Mom might disappear again.
Linda squeaked with joy, rubbing her face against Mom’s clothes, breathing in the scent she missed all day. Her tail wiggled, her body trembling with happiness. This was her safe place. This was home.
Mom lifted Linda up, holding her close against her chest. Linda wrapped herself around Mom, refusing to let go. Her fast running was over, replaced by stillness and comfort. Her breathing slowed. Her eyes softened. The world felt right again.
Mom stroked Linda’s back, whispering loving sounds, telling her she was a good girl, that Mom was home now. Linda responded with soft murmurs, completely relaxed, her earlier excitement melting into deep contentment.
All the loneliness of the day vanished in that embrace. Linda didn’t need toys or treats. She only needed this moment—Mom’s return, warm arms, and the certainty that love always comes back.
For Linda, running fast wasn’t just joy. It was proof of devotion. And for Mom, that tiny sprint was the most beautiful welcome she could ever receive.
