What’s waiting at home
Whenever we go home, we usually have something waiting for us.
For some, it’s a bed after a long day. For others, it’s a meal, a favorite chair, or hours of scrolling through social media before sleeping.
For me, it’s scratching.
The moment I step onto our doormat, I hear it. Tiny paws running across the floor. Scratching against the front door. A few impatient barks.
“Duday!” I call out.
And somehow, no matter what kind of day I’ve had, she always reacts like it’s the best thing that’s happened to her.
I always wondered why pets have that effect on us. They don’t know our grades, understand our deadlines, or know if we passed an exam or spent the whole day worrying about one. Yet somehow, they become part of what gets us through.
Duday became part of my routine sometime around high school. Looking back, she’s been there for almost everything. Whenever I reviewed for exams, she would stay nearby, quietly existing in the same space like it was enough. On most days, she would follow the usual rhythm of the house, sleeping when everything was quiet and waking up when someone moved. She didn’t need to do anything special. She was just there.
Some of my clearest memories from high school involve her.
During college entrance test season, when every conversation seemed to revolve around applications, results, and backup plans, she remained the same. She didn’t care whether I got accepted somewhere or not. She only cared that I was home.
Looking back, I realize Duday was present in so many moments that seemed insignificant at the time. She was there when I stressed over requirements, when I stayed up later than I should have, and when I spent entire weekends convincing myself to start studying. She became part of my daily life so naturally that I never really stopped to think about what it would be like without her.
On bad days, she’d sit near me without being called. When I came home tired, she’d greet me the same way she did on good days. There are smaller things I’ll miss, too, like the way she suddenly wakes up whenever someone says “chicken,” the way she somehow takes up most of the bed despite being smaller than everyone else in the house, and the way she waits near the door whenever she hears familiar footsteps.
For years, those moments felt normal.
Now they don’t, because now I’m in college.
People ask if I’m enjoying all these new places, food, and opportunities. Of course, I am.
College is something I’ve worked hard for. My family and friends support and cheer me on. Everyone seems ready for me to leave.
The funny thing is that the hardest part isn’t leaving home itself.
It’s leaving Duday.
It feels silly to admit.
Out of everything college is asking me to leave behind, my dog is somehow the thing making me hesitate the most. Maybe it’s because everyone else understands why I’m leaving. My friends know we’ll eventually see each other again. My family knows college is necessary.
But Duday doesn’t.
Now, I just stop coming home every afternoon.
She doesn’t know what college is. She doesn’t understand dorms, enrollment, or moving away. She only knows that someone who used to walk through that door every day suddenly doesn’t anymore.
And I think that’s something a lot of us don’t really think about when we talk about leaving for college. We focus on missing people, adjusting to new places, and becoming independent. But we rarely think about the routines at home that will keep going without us. The pets who will still wait by the door at the same time. The ones who won’t understand why the waiting suddenly gets longer.
I think that’s the part that hurts. The thought of my pet not understanding I left is a different ache I can’t wash away.
Now, I don’t come home much. What I do instead is call my sister.
The funny thing is that people usually make video calls to talk to their family. I’m not an emotional person, so whenever I call, I immediately ask her to turn the camera toward Duday so I can see what she’s doing.
Lately, my camera roll has filled up with screenshots from video calls and random photos my sister sends whenever I ask about her. Not because I’m leaving forever. I know I’ll come home eventually. But I also know things won’t be the same.
College has become another chapter of my life. Years from now, I’ll probably remember it through deadlines, classrooms, and the people I meet along the way.
When I think about Duday, though, I don’t think it’ll be the big moments I’ll remember. It’ll be the scratching at the door. The tiny paws running across the floor. The familiar routine of coming home and knowing someone is already excited you’re there.
A few months ago, I was the one leaving.
But Duday is still waiting by the door.
And for now, that’s enough.
Avril Nocos, 18, is a community development student at the University of the Philippines Diliman.
