I Got My Mojo Runnin'

Sometimes I feel so terrible for my little Mojo, because I know he's totally confused by his new surroundings. I wonder if he remembers the old neighborhood in St. Louis. Does he miss his dog buddies in the old apartment building? His best friend Sierra is this adorable husky whose parents were both med students. Sierra's daddy rode a little yellow crotch rocket that was parked right next to my cruiser in the garage. Playtime for Sierra and Mojo meant shop talk for this guy and I. Which leads me to another sweet old dog named Harley. She was a slow moving brown lab-type dog and Mojo loved her and was always gentle with her. Harley's mom was a cute, eccentric, very pale girl with a little pixie hair cut that made me smile. I thought maybe she rode bikes due to Harley's name, and I asked her. "No," she said, "I don't ride a motorcycle, but she just looks like a biker chick, don't you think?" Grinning like the big cheeseball that I am, I noticed that Mojo's harness was the same pattern as Harley's collar, and I was seconds from offering Harley's mom a ride on my bike before, like a dumbass, I stopped myself. I still don't know why for the life of me I never asked that girl out.

Aside from the apartment, Mojo had tons of friends in the dog park down the street. How could he forget his boxer playmate Boston, whose daddy was a huge Red Sox fan? Boston's daddy and I would shoot the shit about baseball while the little men rough housed. If we were lucky, a this pug named Brewster and his very beautiful mommy would stroll up to spend time in the park too. Brewster's mom had these amazing tattoo's on her arms and neck, and I was always afraid of making her uncomfortable by staring at the scales on this wild detailed pattern just under her hairline on the back of her neck. It was one of those that could almost make you cross-eyed. Boston's dad and I also loved to chat about the soccer moms. There was a group of women that showed up at the park precisely at 4:45 and stayed until 5:30, no later. They came with their dogs, almost all black labs, go figure, and often human type babies strapped to their frontsides. They rarely engaged us in conversation, but they did allow our dogs to socialize. Boston's dad and I often chewed over whether or not any of those women were getting happily laid on a regular basis. We decided no ... haha!

Mojo had sooo many friends, he's bound to be missing them, even the ones he never really got to play with. Like Yoshi, a little speck of a thing that did more yapping than anything else. Yoshi's mom was way too sophisticated to let any other dogs approach her. I mean, god forbid their matching outfits would get dirty. I think Mojo was puzzled by that. That little shit sure could have used a beatdown from a dog or two ... just kidding, I don't condone puppy violence. Mojo would never have beat her down anyway. He would possibly have licked her to death, but Mojo is no pummeler. Oh and I almost forgot about The Impostor. There was this other husky in the neighborhood that Mojo ALWAYS thought was Sierra and would crouch into play-stance as it approached. The only difference was that The Impostor's mommy wasn't a nice lady. So I always had to tell Mojo, no no that's The Impostor so he would back down.

Mojo and I found a great dog park here in Syracuse. Onondaga Lake Dog Park is a huge enclosed spot with two areas, one for the big guys and one for the puppies and littler dogs. Mojo, being a nice mid-sized guy is comfortable on either side. This park, though, is so big and there are so many dogs during certain hours, I think Mojo just gets overwhelmed. He starts foaming at the mouth like a rabid monster and all the other owners look at me funny. Last weekend I thought about foaming at the mouth myself just to freak people out. However, it would be a sad day if I were ever banned from a dog park. So I sucked it up, kept my mouth foam free, and brought Mojo, slobbery mouth and all, to the park so he could frolic and spread gooey love all over the pant legs of the other dog owners.