Today, the second of January, a working day, really begins the New Year. Fuggedaboudit. I’m hoping people have today off to go along with the holiday. Two long weekends in a row? Now THAT would make for a happy Christmas.

Despite housing six additional 2-legged residents and two 4-legged critters for the fun of Christmas week, our house is now back to its boring everyday quiet. Every bed was full including a new twin inflatable. Each seat at the dining room table was occupied. And the matriarch’s heart was full of comfort and joy

I noticed the noise level that normally arrives with family visits has calmed considerably. My grandchildren are now essentially adults and the giggles, squeals and chases through the house are history. My college-junior granddaughter will be 21 this month. Her “little” brother, at 6-feet,1-inch is now 17. In addition to gatherings for meals and family games, they are both big readers and writers. Occasionally, I heard a page turn, or some computer keys click, neither of which created holiday pandemonium like the old days.

The first arrival, my newly-retired stepdaughter flew into Buffalo from Los Angeles on Christmas Eve morning. Her red-eye flight arrived at zero-dark-thirty. Dear Richard drove up to fetch her after the sun came up and they were home by ten. I was still cooking and baking for the planned 6-day menu – trying to catch up to the unrealistic schedule I had set for myself.

My son, Bart, arrived late that afternoon, driving from Annapolis with Walter, my grandddog. Walter, a 105-pound white Labrador Retriever, will be 10 years old this month. He is showing signs of slowing down, just as I did when I turned 70. I think my dog years were harder than Walter’s.

However, Walter still loves to put on the feedbag as often as possible, which includes any edible within nose or paw reach. We have learned to prepare for Walter’s arrival the hard way. The first year he came, his nose took him immediately to the laundry room where our cat’s necessities reside. In six seconds flat, he ate all our Finian’s dry cat food and fresh wet food in just two big slurps. Nowadays, we block access to the laundry room buffet by turning a dining room chair on its side in the doorway. Finian can still walk through the chair rungs or soar over the seat to his water and food bowls. The dog stares at the chair, stymied.

Lately, Walter bounds in, checks the laundry room door, and quickly tears through the house following that retriever nose to other potential eats. His last few visits I forgot to put Finian’s treats cannister up out of the way.

Walter arrived in the far-off den11 seconds after arrival. By the time I managed to follow him, the plastic treat cannister had been discovered, bitten in half, and the contents totally consumed. The purple cannister which had been ¾ full, lay chewed and mangled on the carpet, its top across the room. Poor Finian couldn’t even count on his guardian to protect his mid-afternoon goodies. I have finally wised up. This trip, the new freshly refilled container is on a high shelf in the bookcase.

With Walter’s instincts in mind, late afternoon hors d’oeuvres cannot sit on the living room coffee table. The snacks were moved to the kitchen island where everyone filled a small plate to accompany their pre-dinner cocktail. When I say island, I mean the center of the island. Any cheese wedge within 8 inches of the edge is in peril.

Don’t get me wrong. I love this dog. I’m just not used to his outsized curiosity and interest in our world. Finian, our Maine Coon, has his priorities right. He is not intimidated by Walter’s size or exuberant personality and more or less just ignores him. Once or twice though, I’ve found them snoozing near each other. Walter naps more these days. And Finian, being a cat, is required to sleep 18 hours a day. They get along just fine.

And of course, the rest of the family, eager to see each other in the flesh, gets along beautifully. The inside jokes and the old family stories mixed with the kids’ new experiences make for fun conversation. Somehow, every afternoon at 4:00 Malcolm disappears upstairs for 30 or 40 minutes of practice on his double string bass. Yes, he brings it with him – the bass is always the first passenger in the van.

Gathering from Maryland, California, Massachusetts, and New York City, we know the days are limited when we can all be together. College schedules, jobs, professional and social commitments, often dictate our gatherings. Fortunately, Christmas still gets top billing on everyone’s list.

Dear Richard and I, both of the “over-the-hill gang,” do not mention that we hope there will be many more. Next year we should still be able to provide 6 sleeps and 163 Christmas cookies for 24 legs. Piece of cake.

Marcy O’Brien writes from Warren, Pa.