My job title? Dog parent. My actual role? Mochi’s full-time comfort concierge.
People think I work a regular job. But they’re wrong. My true calling is far more demanding: I am my dog’s live-in, 24/7, on-call comfort facilitator.
7:00 AM – Blanket lift #1
She emerges from her bed like a sleepy croissant, stretches dramatically, and waits. I know the look. She wants her first post-sleep blanket wrap. It must be even on both sides. No wrinkles. This is serious business.
8:30 AM – Office comfort set-up
Blanket #2 is placed just right under my designer’s desk. Bonus points if it’s still smells of yesterday’s treats. Mochi settles in, but watches me like a hawk in case I dare leave my chair and disturb the nest.
1:00 PM – Emergency lap request.
After begging everyone in the lunch room, she hops back into bed. I re-wrap her, carefully folding one corner over her ears. She relaxes like she’s at a spa. I resume work with one arm, because she’s claimed the other.
8:30 PM – Blanket layering phase.
End-of-day zoomies are followed by immediate exhaustion. I must provide layered blankets (yes, plural) on the couch for her “I am but a tired potato” phase. Any noise? Instant eye roll.
10:00 PM – Bedtime burrito protocol.
She hops into bed and sits upright. Why? Because she refuses to lie down until I lift the blanket for her like she’s entering a secret fort. Once she’s tucked, she’ll accept 1-2 ear rubs and a light kiss. Any delay results in a long, slow blink of disappointment.
11:00 PM – Final audit.
As I crawl into bed, she opens one eye to make sure the blanket still covers her shoulders. If not? She sighs. I fix it. The audit is passed.
Some people live for luxury. My dog? She demands it. And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.
After all—she gives me her whole heart, every single day. A few blanket tucks are the least I can do.
