From Mocha’s journal:
I woke up this morning, the first time, while it was still dark outside. I was sleeping on the nice cold floor in the small bathroom when my person came in. I stood up and as often happens, I realized I couldn’t turn around. I’d gotten myself wedged between the toilet and the wall.
I kept banging my head into the toilet, until my person finally got the hint and helped me back out. I then sat in the doorway, waiting, because obviously she could get trapped, too, and I would never abandon her. I stayed close, but she managed okay. Then she climbed back in bed. Now at a loss for my next move, I put my snout on her cheek until she explained I should lay back down. I pushed her shoulder with my snout. She told me to lay down. I pushed her again. She pushed me back and said, using her boy voice, “Lay down.” Reluctantly, I did so.
Sometime later, the smallest boy, Hoot, called me into his room and then told me to go away. Then he called me again and told me to go away again. And called me again and sent me away again. Eventually I got tired and laid down on his shoe. If only the grown ups will look away, he’ll definitely give me yogurt later.
Later, my person took me for a walk. Such a nice cool day, I could really wag my tail comfortably.
We were two houses away when I realized I’d missed something. I turned around, and sniffing the side walk, I retraced my steps twice. Finally I found it: a piece of egg sandwich the size of a pebble. My person said, “This is why you’re so fat.” I wagged, nodded, and sniffed again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.
We continued our walk. Dogs everywhere bark when I pass by. I can’t stay, but I pee on every bush so they’ll remember me.
I didn’t get any yogurt, but there’s always dinner. I smell bread baking. I better rest.