It was the worst morning of my entire life. Possibly the worst morning in dog history. 

 

The treat jar was empty. 

 

The Great Treat Jar Tragedy 

 

I looked at the jar. I looked inside it. I sniffed it. I licked the lid, just in case. Nothing. 

 

I lay down on the kitchen floor and let out the saddest sigh ever sighed. Hhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuffff. The curtains moved. 

 

Mom said, “Oh, Joy. I’ll buy more treats soon.” 

 

SOON? That was a hundred years away! In dog time it is actually three days. But it FEELS like a hundred years. 

 

Grown-ups do this, too. They say, “I’ll be happy when I get a new car,” or “I’ll be happy when I’m not so busy.” They put happiness on a shelf for later, like treats in a jar. But the jar keeps running empty, and SOON keeps turning into another SOON. 

 

So I laid there sadly. And while I was sad, I noticed something. The sun was making a warm square on the floor, right next to me. I scooted into it. Hmm. That feels nice. 

 

Then Mia came down the stairs in her fairy-tap feet, still in pajamas, and lay down on the floor next to me. “Good morning, Joy-Joy,” she whispered into my fur. Hmm. That was really nice. 

 

Then Kai tripped over both of us and landed on the floor too, and all three of us laughed. Well, they laughed. I wagged. Dad called out, “What is happening down there?” and then lay down on the floor TOO, holding his coffee up high like a trophy so it wouldn’t spill. 

 

So there we were, the whole pack in one pile, in a square of sunshine, on the kitchen floor. And I completely forgot about the treat jar. 

 

Happiness Starts with a Wag 

 

I wake up before the sun every morning. You might ask, “Joy, why do you get up so early?” Easy. I cannot wait to be happy again. 

 

Kai is usually still snoozing. Mia is tangled up in her blankets with one leg hanging off the bed. Nobody is awake yet, and I am already happy. Why? Because happiness does not wait for something exciting to happen. Happiness starts the moment you decide to wag. 

 

Kai’s Happiness Ball 

 

After school, Kai runs outside to practice tennis. He grabs his racket and mutters, “Got to work on my backhand.” And I, Joy the Retriever, become Joy the Ball-Chasing, Speed-Rocket, Super-Dog Champion of the World. 

 

I don’t know all the tennis rules. But I know this: when Kai hits a tennis ball, it becomes a Happiness Ball. Why? Because he is smiling. Because he is trying his best. Because he is doing something he loves. 

 

Mia’s Soccer Adventures 

 

Mia kicks her soccer ball everywhere. In the yard. Down the sidewalk. Even in the hallway, where she is not supposed to. I do not tell my parents. She dribbles. She dodges. She laughs. And I chase her with my tongue flapping like a little pink flag. 

 

Mia is not perfect at soccer yet. She falls sometimes. She misses the ball. She gets grass in her hair. But she is still happy. You do not have to be perfect to be happy. You just must be brave enough to try. 

 

The Cloudy-Day Game 

 

One day it rained for hours. No walks. No tennis. No soccer. Just gray, soggy puddles. Kai sighed. Mia flopped on the couch like a wet noodle. 

 

So I carried my favorite squeaky toy to each of them and put my head on their laps. Then I invented a brand-new game: Squeaky Toy Tug-of-War. I shook the toy, they tried to grab it, and soon everyone was laughing. Suddenly the whole room felt sunny. 

 

Rain outside does not have to mean rain inside. 

 

The Grumpiest Dog in the Park 

 

At the dog park there is a Basset Hound named Biscuit. Biscuit is grumpy about everything. Rain? “Ugh.” Snow? “Ugh.” Sunshine? “Ugh. Sunshine. AGAIN.” 

 

One day Biscuit asked me, “Joy, how are you always so happy?” 

 

So I told him my secret. “Biscuit, I don’t wait for happy to find me. I go looking for it. A warm spot. A friendly sniff. A squeaky toy. Happiness is always hiding somewhere.” 

 

Biscuit thought about it. Then he lay down in a sunny spot. For one second, his tail wagged. 

 

He will deny this. But I saw it. 

 

I think there is a little bit of Biscuit in everyone. A part that says “ugh” before it has even looked. But even the grumpiest heart has a tail somewhere, and it will wag if you find it a sunny spot. 

 

Under the Thinking Tree 

 

That night, I lay on the roots of my Thinking Tree and thought about the empty treat jar. 

 

Treats are wonderful. But the treats run out. They always do. The good stuff, the warm-square, pile-of-family, someone-whispering-your-name stuff, doesn’t live in a jar. It lives inside of you. And you can’t run out of it, because the more you notice it, the more of it there is. 

 

Here is the wisest thing I know about happiness. It is not something that happens TO you. It is something that happens THROUGH you, when you stop waiting and start noticing. 

 

Here are my Happiness Paw Prints: 

 

• Wag first. Don’t wait for something exciting to happen. 

• Be where your paws are. Right here. Right now. 

• Do more of the things that make your heart wag. 

• You don’t have to be perfect to be happy. Just brave enough to try. 

• When the world is gloomy, make your own sunshine. 

• Give joy away. It always comes back. I think that is why my family named me Joy. I live up to my name.​

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JOY’S GOLDEN THOUGHT ​

You cannot buy happiness because it is created inside a grateful heart. 

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Wag & Wonder 

 

What’s one “warm square of sunshine” you noticed today that a little good thing that was easy to miss? 

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Can you think of a time when you felt happy without getting anything? 

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Between the Lines 

FOR THE GROWN-UP READING ALOUD 

The treat jar is every promise our culture makes: the promotion, the purchase, the vacation, the “once things calm down.” Each one delivers a few seconds of tail-wagging and then empties, and we sigh our curtain-moving sigh and wait for soon.

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Joy’s discovery on the kitchen floor is what many traditions have said in their own words: the kingdom is within you; this is the day; be here now. Joy didn’t find happiness by getting more. She found it by noticing a warm square of sun she’d been lying beside the whole time, and a family willing to lie down on the floor in their pajamas. Your children will remember very little of what you bought them. They will remember who lay down on the floor.

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A question for you: What are you waiting for “soon” to feel? Is there a warm square of sunshine beside you already? 

 

Grown-Up's Corner 

This chapter separates happiness that comes from getting things (treats, toys, screens) from joy that comes from inside (love, presence, gratitude). Children can learn early that the second kind is a choice they can make. 

 

Play “Find the Sunshine”: at dinner, each person names one small, good thing from the day.

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When your child is disappointed, acknowledge the feeling first. Then, later, gently look for a “warm square” together.

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Model it yourself. Children notice when grown-ups find small joys on hard days.