Or, that’s the duration of my potty training plan anyway.
I didn’t actually think I’d get a dog this weekend. I didn’t think I’d get a dog at Canton. I was JUST going TO LOOK. When people asked if I wanted to hold their puppies, I said mostly no – NO. That’s how they get you.
They got me. I wasn’t even interested in him. Then I walked around with my mom and tried to remember where the other Pomeranians were, so I could hold them, too, and try to make an educated decision. But, I bond with stained pots and phones that turn off completely unsolicited, and lava lamps that only make lava in tiny bubbles, and downtown lofts made of icecubes.
That last one’s a lie. I haven’t bonded to it yet.
Elvis Mochiko
7 wks
>2 lbs (add us together, and we might be able to give blood!)
Elvis because my soul forces me, Mochi because it’s GF, and I may call him MJ sometimes just because… just because my heart wants to.
And now, a food lesson: Mochi is rice. Mochiko is rice flour. Mochi is a traditional food eaten on Japanese New Year. I also love mochi icecream.
MO chee ko. To say it properly, you have to throw away your PC tendencies and talk in a Japanese accent. Say a few other words first. Konichiwa! Co so ha mi da! Moshi moshi! Or, Yoshi. I told Dad it’s okay if he calls my pop Yoshi. It’s inevitable anyway.
Larry, however, cannot call him Mocha.
Click on any pictures in this blog to follow Mochi’s first three days with me.