My bags are packed and at the door. It's the last night of winter break and the excitement of another semester is on my mind. After a whole month at home, the freedom and independence of my life at school beckon me back to campus.

My dad carries my bags out to the van and my mother drills me on the contents of the bags, trying to ensure that everything is packed. Finally, everything is loaded up and the goodbyes begin.

I call downstairs to my sister: "I'm leaving!" She merely yells back a very loving, "Bye!" and opts out of any formalities. My brother, who happens to just be walking past, gives me a quick hug before going back to whatever it is brothers do all day. My mom makes things sadder than they are and tells me how much she will miss me – I'll be less than an hour away, but I guess, to most moms, an hour might as well be ten.

But the goodbye I've dreaded the most is the one I will share with my beloved dogs, both curled up in their beds in the family room.

When I came home from school, my family was excited to see me. My dogs were excited when I came back from school, and when I came home from my friend's house, and when I came home from the grocery store. My dogs were happy to see me awake every morning, always greeting me with wagging tails and lots of unwelcome licks.

My dogs didn't care what I got on my finals. They didn't ask me what my major was or what my life goals are. My dogs just wanted belly rubs and long walks.

Saying goodbye to my dogs is the hardest. Yes, it's probably harder for me because they don't understand that I'm leaving for a while. I'll miss cuddling with them and hearing them bark, but they have four other people in the house to greet when they come home.

But the goodbyes are only temporary because, in a few weeks, I'll come home. They'll greet me with the same loud, fuzzy frenzy and it will be like no time has passed. And it will be good to be home. Because, at the end of the day, college is fun, but there are simply not enough dogs.