Life with a dog who owns your heart...and your schedule.
Let me walk you through an average day with Mochi—my four-legged shadow, coworker, boss, and emotional support gremlin. It starts early and ends with me apologizing (again) for not lifting her blanket fast enough. She forgives—but never forgets.
6:00 AM – Morning Run (aka Betrayal Hour)
I sneak out for a run. Mochi knows. She watches me lace up my shoes with quiet judgment. When I come back, she’s allowed a brief sweat-lick session (her favorite), but I’m always rushing to shower, get dressed, and put on makeup. She gives me the “we could’ve snuggled” side-eye the whole time.
7:00 AM – Walkies!!!
The moment I reach for the lead, Mochi turns into a jack-in-the-box on espresso. She bounces, spins, and zoots straight into her harness like a tiny tornado on a mission. Outside, it’s a full olfactory investigation — every tree must be sniffed, every mysterious scent must be... claimed. I don’t have long before work calls, but she makes every second count. When it’s time to turn back, she leads the way like I’m the one who’d get lost without her. Sorry, sweet girl — I wish we had time to go longer. Tomorrow’s walk will be epic. Probably.
8:00 AM – Car Ride & Office Pee Patrol
We hop in the car for our quick commute. Mochi lives for this, she loves a car ride! At the office, she gets her usual pee stop in the car park, but she’d much rather do an investigative deep sniff of every tyre. Sorry babe, deadlines call.
8:30 AM – Bark O’Clock at Reception
While I grab my coffee, Mochi waits in the office space...and immediately begins her “welcome bark” at every person who dares enter. I shush her (gently), she ignores me (gracefully), and we begin our day.
9:00 AM – Designer Treat Hour
She parks herself like a lobby plant and waits for the design team—her people—to arrive. Why? Because they have the good treats. Mochi has never worked a day in her life but has perfected the art of the “I’m starving and adorable” stare.
9:30 AM – Mookie Watch Begins
She hears footsteps. She knows. Mookie, her doggie best friend, is arriving. Mochi immediately barks at Mookie’s owner until he puts her down. Once Mookie hits the floor, it’s joyful chaos. And yes—I tell her to be quiet again. She absolutely does not listen.
12:00 PM – Lunchroom Heist Attempt #7
She sniffs out leftover lunches in the kitchen—usually from the warehouse boys who (foolishly) fall for her begging. I have to drag her out before she consumes three lunches and a protein bar wrapper. She’s offended. I’m sweating.
1:00–5:00 PM – Meetings, Door Scratching, Repeat
I go to meetings. Mochi is shut out. Mochi scratches to be let in. I let her in. She scratches to be let out. I comply. She finds me. We repeat this cycle 6-8 times. Somewhere in there, she takes a dramatic nap across a power cord.
7:00 PM – End-of-Day Zoomies & The Sniff Standoff
We lock up. She enters full zoomie mode down the hall, then insists on a detailed sniff of every square inch of the car park. I beg her to get in the car because I’m starving. She looks at me like, “You rushed me this morning, so…”
7:15 PM – Dinner Drama
We get home. I take too long to feed her. She lets me know. Then I cook for myself, and she sits exactly where I’m about to step, staring at me like I’m the villain in her origin story. She absolutely expects second dinner. And dessert.
8:00 PM – Hair Nesting Hour
Email + TV = Mochi’s favorite time. Not because of me—but because she gets to nest in my hair. It’s her thing. I shift slightly? She grumbles and shifts. My hair must remain on her back for peak relaxation. We’ve reached a silent agreement.
8:30 PM – Blankie or Bust
It’s bedtime wind-down. She crawls up on her soft poof (it use to be my foot rest, but it is HERS), stares at me until I lift her blanket, then flops under it with dramatic flair. I finish emails, she glares if I don’t cover her right. Once satisfied, she power-naps while I go shower.
10:00 PM – Nose Kiss vs. Ear Tickles
I return for the official evening snuggle protocol. She stretches and expects belly rubs. I try to give her a loving kiss on the nose—she tolerates it, but let’s be real, she’s here for the ear tickles. I do both. She deserves both.
11:00 PM – Cold Toilet Protest & Zoomie Encore
Final toilet break. She hates going outside when it’s cold and makes that very clear. Once upstairs for real bedtime, she revives for one last round of zoomies and toy flings before she must be tucked under her blanket. Only then is she truly at peace.
Every day, I mess up a little—rushing, forgetting, being human. But she never holds it against me. She just wants to be close, be fed, and be wrapped like a tiny burrito every night.
And honestly? That feels like a pretty good deal.
