Living with a dog is like living with a tiny, silent (but very expressive) life coach. One who loves you unconditionally... but also judges you deeply. Mochi doesn’t speak English, but trust me—her vibes are fluent.
Here’s what I think she thinks I’m doing wrong:
1. Not feeding her fast enough.
I open the pantry. She hears the rustle. She’s ready. I’m not. This is betrayal. She lets me know by staring at her bowl like it personally offended her.
2. Moving while she’s sleeping on my hair.
Oh, you thought you owned your hair? Adorable. The second I shift, she huffs and scuttles around like I’ve ruined her life’s peace and re-nests with dramatic flair.
3. Closing doors without her.
Whether it’s a bathroom, a meeting room, or the fridge—if she’s not invited in, she’s personally wounded. She scratches once to be let in, then again 30 seconds later to leave. Repeat forever.
4. Refusing to share my food.
She saw me give a chicken scrap to another dog once and she’s never forgotten. Now every meal is accompanied by a stare that says: “Are you really gonna eat that... alone?”
5. Being on Teams instead of snuggling.
She waits exactly two minutes into any call before making a loud entrance or demanding to be let in. It’s not unprofessional, it’s setting boundaries.
6. Leaving her out of life events.
She doesn’t understand where I go or why dogs aren’t allowed. But she does understand that I came home smelling like food or another dog. And she will ensure I give her all the treats until forgiven.
7. Not tucking her in properly.
A blanket merely draped? Unacceptable. It must be tucked. It must be snug. I must kiss her nose AND rub her ears. The ritual is sacred. Deviate, and suffer the glare.
Look, I may get a few things wrong. But I love her in every way I know how. And judging by the way she turns for belly kisses like royalty every night... I think she knows.
