Mojo and the Mess

6:13 a.m.
We’re up before the sun. AGAIN. She looks tired. I’m tired. But she packs snacks for me so I forgive her. #JusticeForMojo

6:45 a.m.
The car ride is quiet. She stares out the window. I lick her hand. I think about throwing up in the backseat just to break the tension but decide against it. #GoodBoy

7:02 a.m.
We’re here. The hospital doors open automatically. I walk in like I own the place. She says “Mojo, chill.” I will NOT chill. #MainCharacterEnergy

7:30 a.m.
A nurse tries to pet me. I decline. I’m busy guarding her. (Also the nurse smells like other dogs.)

8:00 a.m.
She gets poked with needles. I give the nurse a death glare. I would bite them but she says “Mojo, they’re helping.” Hm. Debatable. #Suspicious

8:45 a.m.
She looks pale. I curl up in her lap, which is a logistical nightmare because wires EVERYWHERE. But I manage. #Professional

9:10 a.m.
Someone rolls by with snacks. I attempt to steal a graham cracker. She says no. SHE says no.#Betrayal

9:30 a.m.
Another nurse says, “He’s such a comfort dog!” Excuse me, I am THE comfort dog. Put some respect on my name.

10:15 a.m.
She’s hurting. I know because she squeezes my paw. I stay still even though I want to wiggle. #Hero

11:00 a.m.
We’re finally done. She looks like she ran a marathon in quicksand. I am ready to go home and nap for 17 hours.

11:15 a.m.
Car ride home. I rest my head on her lap. She whispers “thanks for coming, buddy.” Like I would ever be anywhere else. #TeamMomForever

Live tweeting from the hospital is exhausting, but somebody’s gotta do it. Now where’s my snack for emotional labor.