Mojo and the Mess

By Mojo

Hi, I’m Mojo. I’m a Frenchie. I’m also my human’s shadow, nurse, security guard, and—most importantly—her best friend.

I know when she’s hurting.

I can smell it. I can feel it. The air gets heavy. She moves differently. Her voice changes. She tries to act fine, but she’s not fine. And when she’s not fine, I’m not leaving her side.

On good days, I nap. I boss her around when I want snacks. I take up the entire couch and snore so loud she has to turn the TV up. But when she’s in pain? I’m on duty.

I follow her from room to room like I’m her shadow. If she’s in bed, I’m pressed against her hip. If she gets up to go throw up (I hate that part), I sit outside the bathroom door and wait. If she cries, I nuzzle my head into her chest because I want her to feel how much I love her.

I don’t need to understand cancer to know when my human needs me.

And I see him too—my other human. He tries to be strong, but I can tell he’s hurting too. I watch him take care of her, hold her up when she’s weak, make sure she takes her medicine even when she’s mad about it. Sometimes he looks at her with so much worry that it makes my chest hurt. So I sit with him too. I lean on his leg when he’s quiet and overwhelmed. I follow him around the house when she’s sleeping, because I want him to know he’s not alone either.

Humans say I’m “just a dog,” but I’m not. I’m their dog. I know when she’s scared, when he’s tired, when they both feel like the world is too heavy.

So I stay. I stay when people don’t. I stay when the house feels quiet and heavy. I stay even when she pushes me away because she’s tired, or when he’s pacing and doesn’t have the words.

At night, I curl up close so she can feel me breathing. I keep an ear out for him too, because I know he’s watching over her in a different way. I don’t have words to tell them how much they mean to me, so I just stay.

Because I’m Mojo. And I know when my humans are hurting. And I’m never going to let them hurt alone.