Category: At Home
Bark bark bark! Roof! Woof woof woof. Bark bark bark!
Woof woof woof? Bark woof woof! Woof woof woof. Roof. Woof woof woof? Rowr? Bark bark bark!
Translated from Dog:
Wake up Daddy! Wake up! Look, I brought you a ball. Let’s play Daddy, let’s play!
What, are you still tired? It’s already 6:00 AM in the morning! Don’t tell me you’re going to sleep the whole day away. You slacker. Don’t you want to get up and play ball with me? Puleeeeeze? C’mon Daddy, wake up!
There was a thunderstorm last week. A loud cackle of thunder sent Mocha racing under the futon. Ever since then, he seems to like hanging out under various pieces of furniture. Like the futon, our chairs, the bed, etc.
Then there was the time I punished him for barking. I read somewhere that using a spray bottle to squirt an uncomfortable mist at his nose is gentle negative reinforcement. Except that Mocha seems to freak out more than other dogs. When I squirted him, he raced under the futon.
I later read that doing this is bad, so I’ve since stopped it. But the damage, sadly, seems to be done. We now have a dog that seems to find safe haven hiding under the furniture. If there are loud sounds outside, or hears something that prompts a bark, he ducks under the futon. Rats.
I’ll admit, it was funny at first, seeing him combat crawl under there. It’s not as funny anymore though. Now we feel kind of bad about it. Guess we’ll need plenty of positive reinforcement to teach him out of this behavior. Fortunately, it isn’t terribly frequent. We just don’t want Mocha to become a scaredy dog.
Whine whine whine. Whimper whine whine. Whimper whimper whimper. Sniff sniff.
Translated from Dog:
Where’s Mommy going? Why isn’t she taking me with her? It’s just like when Daddy left me behind. Sniff sniff.
We’re so happy Mocha likes his crate. I wonder if his previous owners crate-trained him. At night, he walks into his crate on his own to go to sleep. I know it takes months for some owners to crate-train their dogs, so we’re damn thankful that Mocha appears to be comfortable with his crate.
However, he doesn’t love his crate. Not yet. He prefers to chill out at our feet or in his favorite corner. So I’ve been trying to complete his training. And with our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy! Uh… Ahem.
So I was saying… I’ve got to continue his crate training. With plenty of treats, hopefully it won’t be too difficult.
For some reason, Mocha loves to lie down with his legs spread eagle on the carpet. It’s like he’s rubbing his junk on the rug. (Shagging the shag… carpet? Nyuck nyuck nuyck.) Maybe it feels good? A form of doggie masturbation, perhaps?
Bet you’ve never heard those two words together before. Doggie masturbation. That would be a good name for a band.
Whatever the case, I feel like I should shampoo the carpet now.
Rowr! Woof woof woof. Woof woooof woof. Rooowr!
Translated from Dog:
Ahhh! Nothing like a good stretch first thing in the morning. Feels sooo good. Streeetch!
Whine whine whine. Whimper whine whine. Whimper whimper whimper. Whine whine whine. Sniff sniff.
Translated from Dog:
Where’s Daddy going? Why is he leaving me behind? Why didn’t he take me with him? Is he going to come back? Sniff sniff.
P.S. Gee, get a load of the Natural Balance Dog Treats
by the window. Nice product placement, huh? That was totally unintentional. Honest.
Rowr woof rowr! Woof woof woof. Bark woof woof. Woof woof woof. Woof woof woof. Woof woof woof. Rowr rowr rowr!
Translated from Dog:
Oh, how I love my FURminator! Daddy used it on me today. At first, I was scared. But once he started combing it through my fur, I fell in love. The long strokes scratched all of my itches, unhooked the knots in my hair, and gave me a nice massage. I even fell asleep while Daddy was using it. Oh I love it so!
It’s amazing how quickly Mocha has begun warming up to us and his new home. Maybe it’s the medication wearing off. Maybe it’s all the love and attention he’s getting. Or maybe it’s his emancipation. Whatever it is, he’s already playing around like he’s been here forever.
Treats in a Kong work pretty well, it seems. Unfortunately, he seems to get frustrated once he’s gotten the easy stuff out, then leaves the Kong along.
He just loves this rope bone
. Mocha will grab it and toss it around, then roll on the ground and hold it above his face with his front paws. The rope bone is soggy with doggie saliva by the time he’s done with it. Gross.
Lookit him, chillin’ like a villain with his new toys. Dawww.
After picking Mocha up from the vet, I walked him for a bit so we could get to know one another. I also wanted him to poop and pee before coming into the apartment. Fortunately, that seemed to work. No poop or pee in the apartment! Whew.
He cowered away from other people though, especially men. It made me wonder if he was abused earlier in his life. His tail was permanently tucked between his legs as we walked around. Poor little guy.
He wandered around the place, sniffing every little corner and crevice. Mocha was still nervous, so I tried to be as calm as possible. He eventually gravitated towards a particular corner and laid down.
This probably didn’t help, but I couldn’t resist taking lots of pictures. I felt like a new Dad who takes thousands of pictures of his first child. If we ever get a second dog, he’s going to have like just two pictures. Ever.
I played with him as often as I could, so he could grow comfortable with me. Being in a drowsy state, he entertained me a bit, then wandered back to his new favorite corner to nap.
At one point, Mocha got up, so I outfitted his corner with an old towel and some dog toys. He just sniffed them and laid down again. I think I had more fun with his toys than he did. That sounds dirty. I mean, I had fun arranging them around his head for my photos.
As expected, Mocha was pretty timid on his first day with us. He eat well though, despite being heavily medicated from the neutering operation. That was a great sign, especially since he was so emaciated. (I kept saying he was emancipated, to which Mia finally replied, “Well, of course he’s emancipated. He’s out of the shelter now, a free dog.” Hardy har har.)
Welcome home, Mocha! You’re a free dog now.
