By Ilene Black
Our dog Mojo is a genius. Now, I know all pet owners say that about their pets, but Mojo really is a genius. He communicates better than most people I know, including my husband, whose response to most of my questions is, “Whatever.”
We adopted Mojo in 2008 from a wonderful rescue group called Yorkie Rescue Me. He is now almost 8 years old and has been with us close to five years. He was a scrawny, scared little Yorkie when we got him, but he has turned into a well-fed bossy little divo (that’s masculine for ‘diva,’ right?)
Anyway, you’re wondering why I say Mojo is a genius. One example of his genius is that he talks. Yes, I said he talks. At times, he sounds like Chewbacca from Star Wars. The thing is, Mojo has to have the last word. If he is corrected for overzealous barking (which is basically every five seconds), he will complain. He makes this weird low grumbling, similar to the sound a grumpy child makes when mom wakes him/her up for school. Example:
Me (correcting Mojo for barking at the mailman): Mojo! Quiet!
Mojo (turning head away from irritating mother): ERRRRRRRRR.
Me: Mojo! I said quiet.
Mojo (a little fainter but still audible): Errrrrrr.
Me (over my shoulder as I leave the room): Mo, I mean it. I said quiet.
Pause.
Mojo: (barely audible): Errr.
See? Last word.
Mojo eats oatmeal, plain yogurt, cooked string beans, raw ground beef and some cooked meat or chicken or fish twice a day. So when we put his dish down for his mealtime, the food is warm. If it is too hot for Mojo, he will stand in front of his bowl, give us an evil glance and growl at the dish.
The sound he makes is similar to us saying, “Yo.” It sounds like, “Yo-o-o-o-o.” It’s like he’s saying, “Yo. I am hungry, and I cannot blow on this food to cool it down in order for me to dine on it right this second.” He will “Yo-o-o” until the food has sufficiently cooled for his dining pleasure.
If Mojo is draped across a lap, comfortably dozing, and the person attached to the lap decides to move him and get up, Mojo moans. He will moan loud enough for everyone to hear him, until the lap person comes back or Mojo finds another lap. He says, “No-o-o.” That’s the sound, I swear.
Mojo can also tell time. He knows when I am coming home from work. He stands on the arm of the couch looking out the window until he sees my car. He knows when 6:30 in the morning and 5 in the evening come around, because he will sit next to me and stare at me while licking his chops.
This translates to, “Get up off your duff and feed me immediately.” He also knows when my dad usually leaves to go home after having dinner with us. When the theme music for “ABC World News Tonight” comes on, he starts to stare at my dad as if to say, “Here’s your coat. What’s your hurry?”
Mojo yells at us. When our son Donnie leaves to go to the gym, Mojo stands in the living room and yells at him. When our son Georgie is getting ready to leave after a visit home, Mojo yells at him. Mojo yells at us while we are putting our coats on to go out. He yells at us if we are standing around talking and not paying attention to him. The Dog Whisperer dude would have a field day with Mojo.
After we had to euthanize Corky, whom we had from 1992 until 2005, we swore we would never get another dog. Then we saw Mojo, then named Rico, on the Yorkie Rescue Me website. Even though he’s loud and bossy, even though he yells at us and is not the most sociable creature God made, even though he has a bladder the size of a pea, is afraid of the kitchen and thunderstorms and rain and men wearing hats, we are so happy he adopted us. Because he is, after all, a genius.
