Mocha
Name: Mocha
Date of Passing: 11/06/24
Message to Mocha: I can’t sleep because the soft, familiar, warm fur that cradled my body for the last many years is missing. Mocha was that one special girl who claimed me as hers. She lived a life too short, but filled with personality, barks, and kisses, along with a deep love of anyone who would pass through our front door. Every new person was to be greeted with a kiss right in the face, whether they wanted it or not. Jumping to do it was mandatory.
And the sass! A side-eye expert, she told you better than any teenager that your photo-taking was just as unwelcome as any admonishing tone. She talked back and always got in the salty last word, even while she curled her ears back in a guilt-ridden pseudo-apology sealed with another kiss.
A terrible puppy, Mocha was a literal ankle-biter who chased her little human brother with those puppy-sharp needle-teeth as he ran away. She continued to chew on many things within her path and our cabinets and fireplace still bear the scars of her early days. Even from the first days she came home with us, the strong-willed girl made me cry after hours of non-stop barking in her crate, leaving me telling Stephen that we might need to return her.
But of course, we didn’t. I couldn’t. She was already molding herself around my heart, and what started as crate-training ended with her curled up next to me in bed, her paw draped over my shoulder and her head on my chest.
Mocha was a regular visitor to the emergency vet because no counter was high enough for this part-treeing walker coonhound mutt. Blue Pearl must have a wing dedicated to her by now and I can now recite all the many things which are not to be eaten by a dog. Did you know there are online calculators that will tell you how poisonous what type of chocolate is for a dog based on the dog’s weight and quantity eaten? Did you know that both peach pits and cherry pits have cyanide in them? Mocha was so legendary with her efforts that one time she was forced to vomit up a missing stolen pack of sugar-free gum that was actually hijacked by her younger fur-brother Kodi.
And she loved her fur-brother in that big sister “I am going to teach you a lesson by locking my jaws around your throat so you know who is boss” kind of way. He annoyed her and worshipped her, and she tolerated and grew to be his steady barking companion over the years.
Mocha’s ears told the whole story, though. Long, soft-as-silk hound ears could be tented forward or curled back in apology or thankfulness. Every position revealed every emotion. Mocha loved her people fiercely and protected them and our house with loud-mouthed vigor.
Her daddy was an endless source of joy for all the walks, treats, and late-night cuddles. And the swims! He took her swimming at Washington Island and made sure she didn’t get too far out chasing neighbor children who were splashing too far out. And he made bbq regularly with a greasy, delightful drip tray beckoning. Her daddy always gave her her proper due and invited the queen up on any couch or bed, regardless of the “rules.”
Her oldest brother Jonah was her first bed and one of her last. Away at college, I would see her curled up in his bed, waiting his return. His “da frog legs” and “wiggle, wiggle” was one of her favorite delights reserved primarily for him. I can still see him gently caressing her perfect ears and allowing her to give him a sloppy kiss.
Her youngest human brother Lucas wanted nothing more than her love. He taught her how to run on walks, even when he was too young to handle her. He was once dragged across a lawn, not wanting to let go of the bounding strong dog and have her come to any harm. She loved his sweet calls of “on da bed,” even if she preferred his sheep skin rug on the floor of his room instead. Or his garbage can. Or his breakfast. Watching him say goodbye to her will forever be etched across my heart.
That leaves me. I am left heartbroken by the loss of my spirit animal, the one who loved me like I was her real mama. I certainly loved her as much as any baby. I will no doubt be a teary mess for a while, but in this case, the tears are for a girl who touched my heart with grace and love every day we were together. One day, when my time comes, I expect she will be jumping and scratching frantically at me as I come home to see her.
Rest in peace, sweet baby girl. Momo, Mochie, Ellie May, Mocifur, mama misses you.
Tell us about Mocha: Mocha was adopted from an organization called Magnificent Mutts. She was the last one of her litter to be adopted. She was named after her dad’s favorite coffee drink and her fur resembled its colors. Her favorite things were her family, whatever food she could steal, walks, sniffing, and talking. She also loved playing pull with her orange toy that looked like a snake and barking in our yard. Truly, she was a person in a dog body and the smartest dog we have ever had in the family.
Date of Passing: 11/06/24
Message to Mocha: I can’t sleep because the soft, familiar, warm fur that cradled my body for the last many years is missing. Mocha was that one special girl who claimed me as hers. She lived a life too short, but filled with personality, barks, and kisses, along with a deep love of anyone who would pass through our front door. Every new person was to be greeted with a kiss right in the face, whether they wanted it or not. Jumping to do it was mandatory.
And the sass! A side-eye expert, she told you better than any teenager that your photo-taking was just as unwelcome as any admonishing tone. She talked back and always got in the salty last word, even while she curled her ears back in a guilt-ridden pseudo-apology sealed with another kiss.
A terrible puppy, Mocha was a literal ankle-biter who chased her little human brother with those puppy-sharp needle-teeth as he ran away. She continued to chew on many things within her path and our cabinets and fireplace still bear the scars of her early days. Even from the first days she came home with us, the strong-willed girl made me cry after hours of non-stop barking in her crate, leaving me telling Stephen that we might need to return her.
But of course, we didn’t. I couldn’t. She was already molding herself around my heart, and what started as crate-training ended with her curled up next to me in bed, her paw draped over my shoulder and her head on my chest.
Mocha was a regular visitor to the emergency vet because no counter was high enough for this part-treeing walker coonhound mutt. Blue Pearl must have a wing dedicated to her by now and I can now recite all the many things which are not to be eaten by a dog. Did you know there are online calculators that will tell you how poisonous what type of chocolate is for a dog based on the dog’s weight and quantity eaten? Did you know that both peach pits and cherry pits have cyanide in them? Mocha was so legendary with her efforts that one time she was forced to vomit up a missing stolen pack of sugar-free gum that was actually hijacked by her younger fur-brother Kodi.
And she loved her fur-brother in that big sister “I am going to teach you a lesson by locking my jaws around your throat so you know who is boss” kind of way. He annoyed her and worshipped her, and she tolerated and grew to be his steady barking companion over the years.
Mocha’s ears told the whole story, though. Long, soft-as-silk hound ears could be tented forward or curled back in apology or thankfulness. Every position revealed every emotion. Mocha loved her people fiercely and protected them and our house with loud-mouthed vigor.
Her daddy was an endless source of joy for all the walks, treats, and late-night cuddles. And the swims! He took her swimming at Washington Island and made sure she didn’t get too far out chasing neighbor children who were splashing too far out. And he made bbq regularly with a greasy, delightful drip tray beckoning. Her daddy always gave her her proper due and invited the queen up on any couch or bed, regardless of the “rules.”
Her oldest brother Jonah was her first bed and one of her last. Away at college, I would see her curled up in his bed, waiting his return. His “da frog legs” and “wiggle, wiggle” was one of her favorite delights reserved primarily for him. I can still see him gently caressing her perfect ears and allowing her to give him a sloppy kiss.
Her youngest human brother Lucas wanted nothing more than her love. He taught her how to run on walks, even when he was too young to handle her. He was once dragged across a lawn, not wanting to let go of the bounding strong dog and have her come to any harm. She loved his sweet calls of “on da bed,” even if she preferred his sheep skin rug on the floor of his room instead. Or his garbage can. Or his breakfast. Watching him say goodbye to her will forever be etched across my heart.
That leaves me. I am left heartbroken by the loss of my spirit animal, the one who loved me like I was her real mama. I certainly loved her as much as any baby. I will no doubt be a teary mess for a while, but in this case, the tears are for a girl who touched my heart with grace and love every day we were together. One day, when my time comes, I expect she will be jumping and scratching frantically at me as I come home to see her.
Rest in peace, sweet baby girl. Momo, Mochie, Ellie May, Mocifur, mama misses you.
Tell us about Mocha: Mocha was adopted from an organization called Magnificent Mutts. She was the last one of her litter to be adopted. She was named after her dad’s favorite coffee drink and her fur resembled its colors. Her favorite things were her family, whatever food she could steal, walks, sniffing, and talking. She also loved playing pull with her orange toy that looked like a snake and barking in our yard. Truly, she was a person in a dog body and the smartest dog we have ever had in the family.