MOCHA AND HER MAGIC EARS
About ten years ago the most wonderful of dogs came into our life. I wrote a story about Mocha for one of our grand children. It is a magic story and it is a true story. Mocha was loved deeply by all who had the honour to know her. A few days ago she passed quietly away surrounded by those she loved . The farm is an empty place with out her.
Max is our four year old great grand-son. He asked me “Do you have any rabbits on the farm?” And so I told him the tale of Oswald Gentleman Rabbit and his magic red velvet coat.
“One more question”, said Max. Max always has one more wonderful question. ” Do you have any OTHER magic animals on the farm?”
Max, my darling boy. Let me tell you a story about our farm dog. Her name is Mocha. She is an enormous dog. So big and so strong you could easily ride her – that is if you had a mind to Max. She has the courage of a lion, a heart filled with love, a soul overflowing with happiness, big brown eyes that sparkle with mischief and most important Mocha has magic ears. She hears everything.
Mocha can hear the chatter of bugs. She rests her head on her paws and watches carefully as they natter and nibble their way through the grass.
Mocha can hear the whisper of butterfly wings . She bounds joyfully into the air following them through the garden while they entertain her with stories of their long journey – flying thousands of miles to spend summer on the farm
The big barn on the farm is filled with dairy cows and calves. The cows are mooing and Mocha listens carefully. The cows are telling her about a coyote that has been skulking at the edge of the field. Mocha paces back and forth – looking and listening until she spots the coyote. Then she barks. Loud, loud scary barking that rolls across the field. Angry barking that says to the coyote stay away or you will be in big trouble.
Mocha’s magic ears hear everything. She listens to Max learning to skate with his Grandfather. She listens to brave Max deep underground caving with his Dad. She hears Max splashing in the ocean. Mocha listens and watches and bravely stands guard.
(Mocha really exists. She is half Great Pyrenees and half Labrador. When she is not guarding the farm she accompanies me to the garden and stands watch while I work. There is big mound of dirt close to the garden. Mocha climbs to the top and barks letting is be known she is standing guard.
Mocha invents games to entertain herself. Her favourite toy is a large orange pylon. The big kind you see around construction sites. She is so strong she easily carries it around. Tossing it in the air. Catching it. And then just because she can she puts her head inside the pylon and plays a kind of blind man’s bluff. She has a strange collection of toys – a few sticks to play fetch, a deflated soccer ball, a garden light. She will gather all her toys in a pile then curl up next to them and sleep in the sun.
Mocha knows the sounds of the different vehicles that regularly travel our country road. These she ignores. She ignores the mailman, the person who comes to read the power and gas meter. She pays no attention to the runners and cyclists that exercise daily on our road. But let her hear a strange footstep or a car that she feels doesn’t belong and her barking is loud and important. Brave and noble Mocha is doing her job. Looking after the farm and her people.
