He was raised in the usual manner that unwanted puppies are, with an abusive hand that silenced his instincts — or at least that’s what they thought thanks to the way he cowered at anything raised above a human’s head. He had some odd ticks about him and some old habits that were hard to shake. He was perpetually scared of vacuums, fly swatters, and raised voices. And although it was his instinct to run away from the face of danger, and to keep running for longer than necessary, there was a loyalty in him that toughed it out for the sake of his human. He had learned to trust him despite the lack of loyalty and love that he experienced in his puppy years. He learned that a raised object over his human’s head would not be thrown in his direction, and that vacuums are for cleaning up his shedding fur not to torture him. He learned that he just had to ask in order to be let outside and if he did not run away then he could be trusted to roam as he pleased. He slowly accepted the fact that “chase” was not a game his human enjoyed for hours around the neighborhood and that it was a more rewarding experience to stay close to his best friend’s side. And although it was in his nature to be fiercely loyal to his human, he learned to love others as well and accept them as temporary humans when his one and only had to go where he couldn’t. He somehow learned to trust that he would never be left behind and that his human would always return for him — because neither of them could live life without the other.
It was a labor of love that led to the taming of the furry beast they know as Mo. It was not that he needed to be tamed though, he was in fact too tame and submissive. He was always the dog being humped by others at the park, and he was the last one to bark out his territory. In the face of danger he tended to roll over and expose his belly before taking any other action, always allowing others to know they had the upper hand. He was not the epitome of strength and grace, and often peed on himself and allowed his excessively long tongue to loll out of his mouth with no self control. He had a bad habit of “running away”, although it was all obviously just a game for him. He once led his human on a game of chase around a three block radius, waiting for him to get within eye sight before abruptly sprinting off further down the street. He carried on this game for almost six hours before being side swiped by his human’s friend and tackled to the ground to bring the frustrating game to an end. But that was one of the highlights of Mo’s young life. He had a friend who was loyal enough to play his favorite game for hours on end and he had his tongue fully extended in glee when the game finally game to crashing end. Mo heard and understood the annoyance in his human’s voice, but he could not help but respond with love and thanks for playing with him all day. He did not run away out of a hate for his human or displeasure with his living situation, he ran away because he wanted to play and he knew that this human loved him enough to indulge him fully. He knew that he would never voluntarily leave him and he began to trust that he would always be there to loyalty hunt him down. It was a test of love, and one that his human passed with blazing colors of ferocity. Because Mo meant the world to him and there was no life without him in it. And in a similar fashion that his human had saved him from an abusive upbringing, he had saved his human from self-destruction. He provided him with a reason to live and a reason to continue on every day. He filled a void of emotion that was too much for a mere human to face, and licked the wounds that were so evident across his human’s heart. They were kindred children of abuse and they needed each other to attend to the wounds they did not want to face alone. It was hard to tell what Mo might be thinking at any given moment in his wild youth — his eyes alight with a spirit and curiosity that out shined all other emotion he might be harboring. And the same could be said about his human, whose eyes conveyed the pain of a wounded soul and experience of tragedy that occurred too early in life for the realm of normalcy. Together, they balanced each other out and saw what the world had to offer versus what it had already taken from them. He was the Yang to his human’s Yin and they learned to no longer operate separately but instead only in perfect harmony.
Neither of them have ever considered a day without the other from the moment they met. In fact, his human had been looking for a job, not him, when he had entered the Humane Society on that fateful day and knew that he could not leave without Mo. He had vowed that he would not adopt a dog without a means of employment, unless that dog just so happened to be a Border Collie who was less than a year old — and Mo fit the description perfectly. And although he entered the establishment in hopes of leaving with a job, instead he left with the best friend he would ever have and a better reason to wake up every day than a paycheck. And as Mo and his new human were leaving the Humane Society, he relieved himself in one of his infamously awkward positions and allowed pee to run down his leg and spread across his stomach. His human turned around and asked the Humane Society employees if he always did that, and all they responded with was a chuckle and a smile with “Yeah, it happens all the time.” He had adopted a dog with problems, but they were problems that were comically manageable in the face of the ones he encountered, and all he could say in response was “Whelp, ok. Let’s go Mo.”