Feel free to disagree with this, but the cost of being brilliant, truly brilliant, is that some parts of your brain are vacant. The important parts required for you to deliver your gift to the world require so much energy that the remainder is in a constant state of atrophy. Somewhere on one of my many shelves there's a great book that shares the “wisdom” of the world’s most brilliant people. Aside from the obvious takeaways I was struck by a man infinitely smarter than the rest of us who said that dogs don’t have a soul. “That’s just what you want to be true”. It’s fine to believe whatever it is you believe. We don’t all have to agree on everything, but how could a guy of unquestionable greatness, of unparalleled success, not understand something so obvious? He just didn’t get it.
I’ll never forget a woman stopping us on the street because Mojo reminded her of the dog she used to have. Without solicitation she said “We started taking care of him when our friend got sick (short pause), but really he was the one that took care of us”. That’s what it means to own a dog whether you realize it or not. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re on top of the world or barely scraping by. They are your rock. Seeing that wagging tail through the front door as you approach is the best thing since back roads. They don’t care that you got drunk and made an asshole of yourself at the company Christmas party, how many Instagram followers you have, or what kind of car you drive. Their job is to love and they take it very seriously.
Ask any proper dog owner about their pup and they’ll tell you he’s the best in the world. The funny thing is, they’re all right. Obviously bias is at play but the bond that can occur between human and K-9 if you let it is indescribable. So to say that our relationship with our dog was special isn’t a matter of competition or superiority, it’s just a fact. Makes no difference if that fact is only true to Emily and I. Something worth noting is that we don’t have or want children. So Mojo, who was once a pawn for prolonging marital engagement, became the centerpiece of our happy family. Everything revolved around him. And from his first days with us we began a life that was different. Not for the purpose of being different, but to live the way we wanted. The way that came natural to us. That “way” just happened to be on the road. He went everywhere with us. Literally. 200,000+ miles of everywhere. To 45 of the 50 states. Days, weeks, a month at a time was spent in the truck, together. He was there for every road trip from San Diego to the east coast and back. For every family vacation to Cape Cod, Christmas in upstate New York, fly fishing trips, camping, snowboarding, and of course our wedding. He’s stayed in more cheap hotels and seen more of this country than most humans we’ll ever meet. Talking about it now only reinforces how lucky we are. So how can I do him justice with words? How can I describe the bond we shared? I can’t. That’s not a skill I possess. Even if I did, would it be something people couldn’t understand? Our life on the road has been one that very few people experience. Most probably wouldn’t want to, and that’s ok. For me though, it’s the only way. A special life made truly monumental only by Mojo’s glowing presence and the countless people he’s affected along the way. Through it all he never once complained. Not even after 20 hours straight on pothole infested roads. Never. He just wanted to be with us.
