14 years ago I had a wife and three little girls, ages 1, 3, and 5, I share a birthday with my oldest daughter on June 6th and on her 5th birthday my mom got us a gift to share, a three month old working breed yellow lab. 14 years later, I have a wife and three young women ages 15, 17, and 19, and we just lost our best friend, a handsome old lab with grey whiskers named Mojo.

Mojo, you have helped us raise three wonderful daughters. You have been by our side for everything. You have helped me balance the testosterone levels in a house full of women for 14 years. You gave 3 growing girls company when they needed to cry, when they needed a laugh and when they needed a friend. You lived to see the girls go from diapers to college, you have seen stuffed animals, dolls, roller skates, prom dresses and boys you should have bitten.

You have been our protector, I could always find you at the foot of the bed protecting us and making sure we where safe, taking the role as King of the house and sleeping in my side of the bed when I am not home to protect our queen, being her best friend when I can not. Constantly protecting the girls when we would rough house but yet, laying gently and letting them beat you up when they where small. Always on guard at the camp site to let us know when there was an animal in the woods. I loved the fact that I could say, “Get’em” and point and you would instantly start barking in your vicious tone. I even remember how you stayed at a friends house for a week and she ran a day care. You would not let any of the parents step foot past the sidewalk, you where protecting a bunch of kids you didn’t even know, what a noble dog you where.

We have been from the beaches of Galveston TX to the beaches of Clearwater FL. We have been to far west Texas and we have been tubing down the Guadalupe together and no matter where we went together you would always make strangers strike up a conversation. There was always someone wanting to pet you or tell us how beautiful and handsome you where. One of my fondest memories of our travels was floating down the Guadalupe river in tubes. You had your own tube and life jacket and you would just swim around and greet every drunk person on the river. For two hours we could hear drunk people for a quarter mile yelling, “Mojoooooo” That was an awesome time.

You have helped me track down countless deer, you where never trained for it but you had a knack for tracking down deer and a strange habit of laying next to them almost as if you where mourning for them but yet wanted to eat them. Thank you for the help and thank you for not eating the deer.

We have have learned a lot together in 14 years. On our first day together I learned how smart you where. The potty training was a breeze, I don’t think you ever made a mess in the house and I want to thank you for that. As a pup I learned your first and favorite human food was pizza. That was basically the first and only time you ever growled at me when I tried to take it away. You thought you where a cat growing up, you would always lay on the glass coffee table or lay on the back of the couch like the cat did. You and I both learned you where not a cat when you got to be about 1 year old, while it was ever so cute when you where a small pup, the glass coffee table starts to flex at 80 pounds and you just looked goofy laying on the back of the couch. At an early age I learned not to leave old bait on a treble hook, and you had learned not to eat said bait, You looked like someone just reeled you in. That was not a cheap trip to the vet. I learned that you where not the best at quail hunting but very good at eating my quail before I had a chance to field dress them. You learned to stay away from west Texas skunks and I learned the six-hour ride home afterwards was horrible. We learned together that you where not a dog that was meant to ride in the bed of a truck. Thank god you where OK and I was driving slow. I learned that when you would pass gas I had an opportunity to blame my wife or the girls to cause them grief. I also learned that when I passed gas I could blame it on you and you would not say a word. You taught my buddies and me that the fence in the back yard was definitely yours, no matter how many times we would get drunk and pee on the fence you would always come right behind us and reclaim your territory.


Mojo, I will miss you dearly, I will miss your obnoxious snoring, now I’m the only one that snores. I will miss your uncanny ability to make everyone leave the room when you pass gas. I will miss your horrible snorting sounds you make when you clean your special areas. I will miss how you would lay your head on the couch arm or on my knee when I eat and you would push down really hard trying to get my attention. It was like your head weighed 40 pounds. I am going to miss how you would lay in front of the fridge door and not move and how I would have to pull real hard on the door to slide you over, you would lay there like a statue. I will miss how you would lay under the desk and tangle up all of the cords while keeping my feet warm. I am going to miss your ears flopping in the wind when we go on a car ride. I will miss the fact that you could sleep 6 hours in the car and magically wake up and start smelling the air 10 min before we reached the deer lease or the lake. I will miss everything about you my friend. You have a Man a Woman and three girls that will forever hold a place in our hearts for you as the best dog in the world…ever.

I wanted to spend our last days together and make sure you where happy, I hope you enjoyed the car ride to the lake and the hike we took, That one last dip in the water and that one last field to claim as your territory. Mojo I hope you enjoyed the pork ribs, double bacon cheeseburgers and pizza.


We received Mojo on June 6th 2001
Mojo Died in My Arms Wednesday June 17th 2015

Kirk Taylor, Saddleback Sr. Dev Ops Engineer.




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