The sound of two beer bottles opening in the kitchen means something good is settling over the house.

Mom and Dad are in their evening rhythm — the easy kind that comes after dinner dishes and before tomorrow starts asking for attention. I can hear the soft conversation drifting from the kitchen, the kind where words matter less than the space between them.

Gus stretched out on the family room sofa with his femur bone, working the marrow like he has all the time in the world. Which tonight he does. I took mine to the main bedroom — the hardwood floor cold against my belly, the bone solid between my paws.

The house smells like Friday. Dinner lingering, the faint yeast from Dad’s beer, and underneath it all the clean smell of marrow and satisfaction. Outside the temperature dropped to something reasonable after this strange warm week. The air coming through the doggy door carries the promise of better sleeping weather.

Two bones. Two beers. Four of us exactly where we belong.

#pawscarwilde #frozenbone