Chapter 30: Goodbyes, Giggles, and a Midnight Bark
The sun dipped low behind the trees, casting long golden rays through the windows as Lina waved goodbye to Karl and Edit. They stood at the gate, bags packed, faces glowing with hope and anxiety. Tango gave one last whimper, pressing his head against Edit's hip, and she bent down to hug him tightly.
"Be good, fluff monster," she whispered, brushing her fingers through his curly black fur. "We'll be back before you know it."
"You'll get photos," Lina promised, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. "And videos. Possibly even a newsletter if Jonas gets ambitious."
That earned a chuckle from Karl. "As long as he's not the one writing captions."
"Hey!" Jonas protested behind her. "I'm hilarious."
Edit and Karl climbed into the taxi. Lina held back tears as they disappeared down the road.
Back inside the house, things quickly shifted from emotional to chaotic. Samba, ever the whirlwind of joy, barked and bolted after a rogue tennis ball. Tango, in an effort to copy her, took out a kitchen chair with his oversized rear.
"I think we've officially doubled the mayhem," Jonas muttered, catching a vase mid-fall.
Later, they took the dogs for an evening walk. The leaves rustled underfoot, the air smelled of pine and the kind of peace that only exists in forests right before dusk.
"Did you see Tango's face when Samba stole his stick?" Lina grinned.
"He looked personally betrayed," Jonas laughed. "Like she'd slept with his girlfriend."
The dogs tugged at their leashes, determined to race ahead together in a kind of joyful tangle. It wasn't a walk—it was a controlled chaos performance.
"They make a good team," Lina said, breathless from laughing.
"Like us," Jonas replied, nudging her with his elbow.
They turned a corner and paused to take in the view of the valley below—golden light spilling over rooftops, smoke curling from chimneys. Tango sat obediently beside Lina while Samba flopped down, tongue lolling.
"You know," Lina began, "someone in the group chat asked if we're opening a dog hotel."
Jonas snorted. "It's not the worst idea. We already have two walking mattresses."
Lina giggled. "Can't wait to see your face when they both jump in bed tonight."
He gave her a look. "One of them better sleep at the foot."
"Sure," she said sweetly. "Let's see how long that lasts."
Night fell gently over the house. After brushing their teeth and setting out bowls of water, they slipped into bed. Jonas was reading, Lina scrolling through photos of the day, when the dogs both suddenly sat up, ears perked.
"What the…" Jonas started, just as Samba gave a low, rumbling bark.
Tango followed, but his bark sounded more like a foghorn filtered through a kazoo.
Jonas bolted upright. "What are they barking at?"
"I don't know," Lina whispered, heart racing.
He pulled on his hoodie and padded downstairs barefoot, the dogs padding close behind. The living room was empty. No intruders. No ghosts.
He opened the front door—nothing.
Then, as he turned to reassure the dogs, he stepped into a puddle.
A very warm, very fresh puddle.
"Samba!" he groaned.
From the top of the stairs, Lina's laughter echoed. "I guess she was trying to warn you!"
Back upstairs, as he peeled off his wet sock, Lina was doubled over in laughter.
"I'm glad you're so amused," Jonas said, trying not to smile.
"I told you she was still figuring out nighttime routines."
Tango barked once—as if in agreement—then curled up in the hallway.
Lina leaned over and kissed Jonas on the cheek. "You handled that like a pro, Daddy."
Jonas raised an eyebrow. "You calling me Daddy now?"
"In the dog-parent sense," she teased. "But… who knows."
He smiled, warm and a little stunned. "If this is a preview of parenting, we might just survive it."
"With a little less pee," Lina added.
They curled up together, both dogs sprawled around them like furry fortresses. The house was full, loud, occasionally wet—but deeply, undeniably theirs.
And in the quiet that followed, Lina whispered, "I think I'm ready."
Jonas squeezed her hand. "Me too."