He stood inside the pen, staring out at the approaching truck warily. It was a large vehicle, blood red with a black stripe down the center and dust billowing out behind it as it drove down the dirt road. Slowly, the truck came to park outside of the house and the driver's side door opened.
There came a grunt as a black wheelchair was pulled out and onto the ground. The dog's tail immediately began to wag as he saw the sandy-haired man open the chair, then plop a cushion into the seat. Another grunt and the broad-shouldered man was in the chair. He started toward the large Plantation Plan style home, whistling to himself.
The dog didn't wait another instant. His tail wagging, the huge mastiff ran out of the pen, barking madly. The wheelchair stopped and turned, the man looking backward with a grin. The animal quickly sailed over to him, front paws landing in the man's lap, his wide tongue licking the bearded face.
"Easy boy!" Mark said with a laugh as he ruffled the dog's fur. "Easy. I'm happy to see you too, Brutus." He pressed his forehead against the dog's and stared into his eyes. "I've missed you boy," he whispered, scratching the animal behind the ears. Gently, he pushed the dog down and headed for the ramp and rolled up to the porch.
"Ma!" he called out as he opened the screen door. "I'm home! What's for supper?"