It’s good to be a dog, sometimes

Its good to be a dog, sometimes

It’s good to be a dog, sometimes

Editor’s note: My sister’s dog did not write this, but I wish she did. She would have enjoyed it.

Some days I wish I were a dog. Dogs spend their days eating, sleeping, chewing, slobbering and running off with old shoes, at least this is the partial list of activities for my little sister’s dog.

Mocha arrived in early summer as a sleepy little bundle of fur. She was small and cuddly and refused to stay awake long enough even to bathe. She now weighs in at 50-pounds and has the energy to match her highly-caffeinated name. Apparently trembling with glee from moist nose to wiggly stern is a key part of being a chocolate lab.

She is a very talented dog. Mocha can sit up, beg and catch a football in mid-air. One of her first tricks, shaking hands, has become so firmly ingrained that she tries to greet other dogs with a paw shake instead of the more traditional hindquarters sniffing. Living across cultures is never easy and Mocha has been snubbed by other canines for her all too human greeting.

She loves long jogs down the street at sunset. Her favorite food is an elaborate form of peanut butter puppy biscuits baked from scratch, but she’ll take anything she can get. Popcorn is another favorite, but she doesn’t like her vitamins.

If I were a dog instead of a daughter I’d be spoiled rotten. Mocha has an entire team of “spoilers” just waiting to pamper her and when she trains those golden puddle eyes on her victim she usually gets what she wants.

She sits in little sister’s lap and helps her play computer games. Considering the dog is more than half the size of the girl, this is quite a sight.

She is the self-appointed doorbell and greeting committee. If the door cracks, she announces the arrival then scrambles to the door where she attempts to drown the visitor in a puddle of squirming slobber and affection. If I head to the refrigerator she wants to be a part of the action, every transfer from fridge, to counter, to microwave, to mouth is carefully guarded.

Mocha is an outside dog. This was the original plan, so to keep things right everyday she gets to spend a few minutes in the great outdoors, sniffing for trails and then we haul her back in so she can stare out the window and wish that she was chasing squirrels.

She has a bell and when it rings she wants to go out. Whenever she sees me she rings. I’m beginning to think I am the butler.

I know they say it is a “dog’s life,” but from where I stand things look pretty good. If I had those magic doggie qualities perhaps I could just bask in the sun, bark at my family and chew things. Of course I have the next best thing, Mocha happily offers to take me on a walk as my consolation prize.