Zoé
Chapter 3: A Turbulent Awakening
This morning, Zoé wakes up for her first day with Moka at home. But has she thought of everything he needs? A surprise awaits her as soon as she wakes up!
Reading difficulty
Zoé goes downstairs and looks at the living room. Oh no! Moka's basket is overturned. Toys are everywhere in the room. One corner of the rug is all chewed up.
"Oh my! What happened here?" said Zoé, surprised.
Moka comes running towards her. He wags his tail very hard. He jumps on Zoé to give her lots of licks on the face.
"Hello, Moka!" said Zoé, laughing. She gently stroked him. "Did you make all this mess?"
She starts tidying up the living room. She picks up the toys one by one. She puts the basket back in its place.
But suddenly, she sees Moka doing strange things. He's circling near the door. He puts his paw against the door. He looks at her and whines.
"Oh, do you want to go out?" Zoé asks.
Moka whimpered even louder. He wagged his tail. He took small, nervous steps.
"Okay, but just wait a little while. I'm going to have my breakfast first. You just woke up, you can wait."
Zoé goes into the kitchen. She pours herself a glass of orange juice. She eats a slice of bread with butter. She thinks about the games she's going to play with Moka.
But suddenly, she hears a strange noise. Plop... plop...
She frowned. She ran quickly into the living room.
Oh no! There's a big puddle in front of the front door!
"Moka!" Zoé shouts.
Moka lowers his head. He looks very sad. He remains motionless. He knew it wasn't right to pee in the house.
Mom comes into the living room. She looks calmly at the puddle.
"He couldn't wait any longer," she said softly.
Zoé's cheeks are bright red. "But I didn't know..."
"This morning, do you remember? He was circling near you. He was moaning as he looked at the door. He was trying to warn you."
Zoé understands now. Moka can't speak like us. But he shows what he needs with his body.
"Tomorrow, I'll take you out as soon as I come downstairs!" Zoé told Moka.
She takes some paper and a sponge. She cleans the puddle thoroughly. Moka remains seated next to her. He watches her.
"I'll do better next time, I promise," said Zoé, stroking Moka's head.
Moka wags her tail happily.
Tomorrow morning, Zoé will try her first real walk with Moka and her new leash. But will everything go well?
"Oh my! What happened here?" said Zoé, surprised.
Moka comes running towards her. He wags his tail very hard. He jumps on Zoé to give her lots of licks on the face.
"Hello, Moka!" said Zoé, laughing. She gently stroked him. "Did you make all this mess?"
She starts tidying up the living room. She picks up the toys one by one. She puts the basket back in its place.
But suddenly, she sees Moka doing strange things. He's circling near the door. He puts his paw against the door. He looks at her and whines.
"Oh, do you want to go out?" Zoé asks.
Moka whimpered even louder. He wagged his tail. He took small, nervous steps.
"Okay, but just wait a little while. I'm going to have my breakfast first. You just woke up, you can wait."
Zoé goes into the kitchen. She pours herself a glass of orange juice. She eats a slice of bread with butter. She thinks about the games she's going to play with Moka.
But suddenly, she hears a strange noise. Plop... plop...
She frowned. She ran quickly into the living room.
Oh no! There's a big puddle in front of the front door!
"Moka!" Zoé shouts.
Moka lowers his head. He looks very sad. He remains motionless. He knew it wasn't right to pee in the house.
Mom comes into the living room. She looks calmly at the puddle.
"He couldn't wait any longer," she said softly.
Zoé's cheeks are bright red. "But I didn't know..."
"This morning, do you remember? He was circling near you. He was moaning as he looked at the door. He was trying to warn you."
Zoé understands now. Moka can't speak like us. But he shows what he needs with his body.
"Tomorrow, I'll take you out as soon as I come downstairs!" Zoé told Moka.
She takes some paper and a sponge. She cleans the puddle thoroughly. Moka remains seated next to her. He watches her.
"I'll do better next time, I promise," said Zoé, stroking Moka's head.
Moka wags her tail happily.
Tomorrow morning, Zoé will try her first real walk with Moka and her new leash. But will everything go well?
Zoé skips down the stairs, eager to see Moka again. But as she enters the living room, she stops abruptly. Her smile vanishes.
Moka's basket is overturned. Her toys are scattered everywhere: the ball near the fireplace, the rope in the middle, the bone under the table. And a corner of the rug has been chewed during the night.
"Oh dear... What happened here?" Zoé whispers in surprise.
Before she could think, Moka appeared from behind the sofa. He came running, his tail waving happily. He jumped on her and showered her with licks.
"Hello, Moka!" said Zoé, laughing. "Did you make this mess last night?"
She strokes him for a long time. "Well, it's not so bad. Maybe you were bored. We'll tidy up together."
Zoé picks up the toys one by one and puts the basket back in its place. She smooths the rug as best she can.
But while tidying up, she notices something strange. Moka won't stay still. He circles her several times. Then he goes to the front door, places his paw against the wood, and turns to Zoé with a pleading look. He whimpers softly.
"Oh, you want to go out?" Zoé guesses.
Moka moaned again, swished her tail nervously and took quick little steps in place.
"Okay, but wait a bit. I'm going to have my breakfast first. You can wait a few minutes, can't you?"
She goes into the kitchen, thinking Moka can wait. Zoé pours herself a glass of orange juice, spreads butter on a slice of bread, adds jam, and sits down at the table. She eats peacefully, already thinking about the games she'll play with Moka: walks in the park, ball games, maybe teaching her to sit or give her paw.
But suddenly, a noise catches his attention. Plop... then another... then another...
She frowned, worried. She put down her toast and turned towards the living room.
His heart leaped. There, in front of the entrance door, a large golden puddle spread across the parquet floor.
"Oh no... Moka!" Zoé cries.
She runs out of the kitchen. The little dog lowers its head, ears back. It looks guilty. Its tail wags timidly. It remains motionless, as if it knows it has done something wrong.
"Moka, why...?" Zoé begins, but she stops.
His mother enters the room. She watches the scene calmly. "I think he couldn't wait any longer," she says softly.
Zoé blushed. "But I didn't know I had to take it out right away..."
Her mother knelt beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Do you remember this morning? When Moka was circling you and whimpering as she stared at the door?"
Zoé nods her head, ashamed.
"He was trying to warn you. A dog can't speak, but he communicates through his behavior. He showed you that he urgently needed to go outside."
Zoé lowered her eyes. She had seen those signs, but she hadn't paid attention to them. She thought her breakfast was more important.
"He waited as long as possible," his mother continued. "But when he couldn't hold it any longer, he went right where he was."
Moka approaches gently and rests her head against Zoé's leg.
"I didn't understand quickly enough," Zoé murmured sadly.
"It's okay," said Mom with a smile. "You're learning. But remember this lesson well: when you have a dog, you have to pay attention to what it's telling you in its own way. Its needsare sometimes urgent.
Zoé understands now. She takes a deep breath and sits up straight.
"I'm going to clean it up," she decides.
She goes to get some absorbent paper and a sponge. She carefully cleans the puddle until everything is clean.
Moka remains seated next to her, watching her intently.
When she finished, her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. "You reacted well. And tomorrow morning?"
"Tomorrow, I'll take Moka out as soon as I get downstairs," Zoé replied resolutely. "Even before breakfast!"
She strokes Moka tenderly. "I'll do better, I promise."
Moka happily wags her tail and licks his cheek.
Zoé feels a new sense of pride within her. Taking care of a dog isn't just about playing. It's also about listening to its needs and understanding what it's trying to say.
But the next day, when Zoé takes Moka for her first walk with her new leash, she discovers that walking with a dog is not as simple as she imagined...
Moka's basket is overturned. Her toys are scattered everywhere: the ball near the fireplace, the rope in the middle, the bone under the table. And a corner of the rug has been chewed during the night.
"Oh dear... What happened here?" Zoé whispers in surprise.
Before she could think, Moka appeared from behind the sofa. He came running, his tail waving happily. He jumped on her and showered her with licks.
"Hello, Moka!" said Zoé, laughing. "Did you make this mess last night?"
She strokes him for a long time. "Well, it's not so bad. Maybe you were bored. We'll tidy up together."
Zoé picks up the toys one by one and puts the basket back in its place. She smooths the rug as best she can.
But while tidying up, she notices something strange. Moka won't stay still. He circles her several times. Then he goes to the front door, places his paw against the wood, and turns to Zoé with a pleading look. He whimpers softly.
"Oh, you want to go out?" Zoé guesses.
Moka moaned again, swished her tail nervously and took quick little steps in place.
"Okay, but wait a bit. I'm going to have my breakfast first. You can wait a few minutes, can't you?"
She goes into the kitchen, thinking Moka can wait. Zoé pours herself a glass of orange juice, spreads butter on a slice of bread, adds jam, and sits down at the table. She eats peacefully, already thinking about the games she'll play with Moka: walks in the park, ball games, maybe teaching her to sit or give her paw.
But suddenly, a noise catches his attention. Plop... then another... then another...
She frowned, worried. She put down her toast and turned towards the living room.
His heart leaped. There, in front of the entrance door, a large golden puddle spread across the parquet floor.
"Oh no... Moka!" Zoé cries.
She runs out of the kitchen. The little dog lowers its head, ears back. It looks guilty. Its tail wags timidly. It remains motionless, as if it knows it has done something wrong.
"Moka, why...?" Zoé begins, but she stops.
His mother enters the room. She watches the scene calmly. "I think he couldn't wait any longer," she says softly.
Zoé blushed. "But I didn't know I had to take it out right away..."
Her mother knelt beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Do you remember this morning? When Moka was circling you and whimpering as she stared at the door?"
Zoé nods her head, ashamed.
"He was trying to warn you. A dog can't speak, but he communicates through his behavior. He showed you that he urgently needed to go outside."
Zoé lowered her eyes. She had seen those signs, but she hadn't paid attention to them. She thought her breakfast was more important.
"He waited as long as possible," his mother continued. "But when he couldn't hold it any longer, he went right where he was."
Moka approaches gently and rests her head against Zoé's leg.
"I didn't understand quickly enough," Zoé murmured sadly.
"It's okay," said Mom with a smile. "You're learning. But remember this lesson well: when you have a dog, you have to pay attention to what it's telling you in its own way. Its needsare sometimes urgent.
Zoé understands now. She takes a deep breath and sits up straight.
"I'm going to clean it up," she decides.
She goes to get some absorbent paper and a sponge. She carefully cleans the puddle until everything is clean.
Moka remains seated next to her, watching her intently.
When she finished, her mother placed a hand on her shoulder. "You reacted well. And tomorrow morning?"
"Tomorrow, I'll take Moka out as soon as I get downstairs," Zoé replied resolutely. "Even before breakfast!"
She strokes Moka tenderly. "I'll do better, I promise."
Moka happily wags her tail and licks his cheek.
Zoé feels a new sense of pride within her. Taking care of a dog isn't just about playing. It's also about listening to its needs and understanding what it's trying to say.
But the next day, when Zoé takes Moka for her first walk with her new leash, she discovers that walking with a dog is not as simple as she imagined...
The sun rises gently over the blue house, bathing the rooms in a golden light. Zoé skips down the stairs, still sleepy but eager to see Moka and begin their first real day together under the same roof.
But upon entering the living room, she stopped abruptly, frozen. Her radiant smile vanished instantly. Her eyes widened in surprise and incomprehension.
The scene before her was nothing like what she had imagined as she drifted off to sleep. Moka's basket, so carefully arranged the night before, was completely overturned, as if a small tornado had swept through. Her brand-new toys were scattered all over the room: the squeaky ball rolled near the fireplace, the tug-of-war lay in the middle of the hallway, the rubber bone lay under the coffee table. And most notably, a corner of the beautiful living room rug looked as if it had been thoroughly chewed, revealing pulled threads and obvious teeth marks.
"Oh dear..." Zoé murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief. "But what happened here during the night?"
She stood there for a few seconds, trying to understand this unexpected spectacle, wondering if Moka had been scared, if he had been bored, or if he had simply decided to redecorate the living room in his own way.
Before she could formulate a theory, a brown flash appeared from behind the sofa. Moka came running towards her at full speed, his tail whipping frantically in the air. He jumped on her with boundless enthusiasm, placing his front paws on her legs, and proceeded to shower her face and hands with a thousand affectionate licks.
"Hello, Moka!" said Zoé, laughing despite her surprise, her worry momentarily swept away by her companion's enthusiastic welcome. "So you're the one who made all this mess last night? You seemed to have a lot of fun!"
She kneels down to his level and strokes him for a long time, feeling the soft, warm fur of the little dog beneath her fingers. "Well, it's not so bad after all. Maybe you were bored all alone in the dark. We'll tidy everything up together."
Zoé methodically begins to gather the scattered toys, placing them one by one back into the basket, which she then straightens. She smooths the rug as best she can, mentally noting that it may need to be repaired later.
But as she busies herself tidying the living room, she notices something strange about Moka's behavior. The little dog isn't just quietly watching what she's doing. He circles her several times, making increasingly tighter circles. Then he strides purposefully toward the front door, places a front paw firmly against the wood, and turns back to Zoé, staring at her with an intense, pleading gaze. A plaintive whimper escapes his throat.
"Oh, you want to go out?" Zoé guesses, interpreting these signals which seem obvious to her.
Moka moaned again, louder this time, nervously wagged his tail and took a few quick, jerky steps in place, as if performing some strange dance.
"Okay, okay, I understand," said Zoé, smiling. "But just wait a little while, while I have my breakfast. You just woke up, you can wait a few minutes, can't you?"
She strolled towards the kitchen, unaware of the true urgency of the situation. After all, in her mind, Moka had all day. A few minutes more or less, what difference could it really make?
Zoé pours herself a large glass of juiceShe scoops up some fresh orange juice, generously spreads butter on a crusty slice of bread, even adds a thin layer of jam, and settles comfortably at the kitchen table. She savors her first bite with delight, letting her mind wander to all the wonderful activities she has planned with Moka today: a long walk in the park where he can run freely, perhaps a game of ball in the garden in the sunshine, and why not start teaching him a few simple tricks like sitting on command or giving his paw.
But suddenly, a faint, distinctive sound caught his attention, abruptly breaking the flow of his pleasant thoughts. A plop... clear and distinct, followed a few seconds later by another... then another...
She frowned, intrigued and vaguely worried. That noise didn't bode well. She hurriedly put her toast down on her plate and turned towards the entrance of the living room.
Her heart leaped in her chest. A mixture of surprise, disappointment, and guilt instantly overwhelmed her.
There, right in front of the front door, on the beautiful parquet floor they had cleaned so carefully yesterday, a large golden puddle spread inexorably, forming a wet and shiny stain that reflected the morning light.
"Oh no... Moka!" exclaimed Zoé, her voice betraying her deep dismay.
She rushes out of the kitchen, her half-eaten slice of toast still clutched in the hand she'd forgotten to put down. The little dog, a silent witness to her own failing, immediately lowers its head, its ears pinned back. Its gaze expresses obvious guilt, mixed with a certain confusion. Its tail, usually so expressive and playful, timidly flicks the air in small, hesitant movements. It remains perfectly still near the scene, as if petrified, as if it knew perfectly well that it had just done something wrong but hadn't really had any other choice.
"Moka, but why are you...?" Zoé begins, her voice tinged with reproach and incomprehension, but she stops abruptly when she sees the expression of the little dog.
Her mother, drawn by the noise and the exclamation, enters the room. She observes the scene with a calm and understanding eye, showing no particular anger or annoyance. She has seen much worse in her veterinary practice over the years.
"I think he simply couldn't wait any longer," she said softly, in a calm and educational voice.
Zoé felt a wave of heat rise to her cheeks. A flush of embarrassment and guilt spread across her face. "But... I didn't know I absolutely had to take it out right away, as soon as I woke up. I honestly thought it could wait a little while..."
Her mother knelt gracefully beside her, placing a reassuring and affectionate hand on her shoulder. "Think for a moment, my darling. Do you remember this morning, when Moka was circling around you and whimpering, staring fixedly at the door?"
Zoé nods slowly, mentally replaying the scene she hadn't taken seriously enough a few minutes earlier. A feeling of shame begins to gradually overwhelm her.
“He was trying to warn you, to communicate his urgent need,” his mother explained patiently in a soft voice. “A dog can’t speak our language, obviously. But he communicates constantly through his behavior, his gestures, his looks, his sounds. He clearly showed you that he urgently needed to go outside. It was a message as clear as if he could have told you with words.”»
Zoé lowered her eyes, truly ashamed now. She had indeed seen all the signs Moka had been insistently sending her, but she hadn't given them the attention they deserved. She had thought her own breakfast was more important, more urgent. She hadn't realized that for Moka, it was a genuine physiological emergency that he couldn't control indefinitely.
“He waited as long as he could,” his mother continued gently, without any judgment in her voice. “He showed remarkable patience and restraint. But when his body could no longer hold it in, when the urgency became absolutely unbearable… well, he had to go where he was, even though he probably knew it wasn’t the right place.”
Moka, who had followed this exchange with his large, expressive eyes, then gently approached Zoé. With touching tenderness, he rested his head against her leg, as if to apologize for this unfortunate incident that he could not avoid, but also to comfort her, perhaps sensing her discomfort and guilt.
"I didn't understand quickly enough," Zoé murmured in a small voice filled with sincere regret. "I wasn't paying attention to what he was trying to tell me."
“It’s really okay,” her mother reassured her with an understanding and kind smile. “This is your first experience with a dog, and you’re learning. But it’s a really important lesson you need to remember for the future: when you have a pet, and especially a dog, you must always be attentive and receptive to how it communicates with you. Their needs are sometimes urgent and pressing, and they rely entirely on you to understand and respond to them quickly.”
Zoé understands perfectly now. The lesson is clear and she certainly won't forget it. She takes a deep breath, gathers her courage, and straightens up with renewed determination.
"I'm going to clean it up," she decided firmly, taking full responsibility for what had happened.
She places her forgotten slice of toast on the living room table, fetches paper towels and a sponge from the kitchen, fills a bucket with soapy water, and gets to work diligently and seriously. She carefully wipes up the puddle, meticulously cleans the parquet floor, going over and over it again until everything is perfectly clean and there is no visible trace or lingering odor.
All this time, Moka remained seated quietly beside her, motionless like a small statue, watching her work with her large, round, attentive eyes, seemingly understanding intuitively that Zoé was repairing the consequences of her own misunderstanding.
When she has finally finished and the living room is spotless again, her mother approaches and affectionately places a hand on her shoulder.
"You reacted very well to this situation," she sincerely congratulated her. "You took responsibility, you cleaned up without complaining, and above all, you learned your lesson. So, tomorrow morning, what will you do differently?"
“Tomorrow, I’ll take Moka out as soon as I come down from my room,” Zoé replied with a determined smile and a newfound confidence in her voice. “Even before I think about my own breakfast! Her needs come first.”
She leans down and caresses Moka with renewed tenderness, almost as if to solemnly seal a promise between them.
"I'll do better from now on, I promise," she whispers softly in his ear.
Moka wags his tail with obvious joy, as if he understandsHe perfectly understood the words and sincere commitment of his young mistress. He gave her a long, affectionate lick on the cheek.
Zoé feels a new and different kind of pride rising within her. She now understands with crystal clarity that caring for a dog isn't just about playing with it, cuddling it, and enjoying its pleasant company. It's also, and above all, about learning to listen attentively to its needs, to understand its unique non-verbal communication, and to prioritize its emergencies over her own immediate desires. It's a true daily responsibility that demands constant attention, infinite patience, and continuous adaptation.
She is ready to take on this magnificent and demanding challenge.
But the next day, when Zoé enthusiastically decides to take Moka for her very first real walk around the neighborhood with her brand new leash, she will quickly discover that walking a dog in the street is absolutely not as simple and obvious as she had naively imagined...
But upon entering the living room, she stopped abruptly, frozen. Her radiant smile vanished instantly. Her eyes widened in surprise and incomprehension.
The scene before her was nothing like what she had imagined as she drifted off to sleep. Moka's basket, so carefully arranged the night before, was completely overturned, as if a small tornado had swept through. Her brand-new toys were scattered all over the room: the squeaky ball rolled near the fireplace, the tug-of-war lay in the middle of the hallway, the rubber bone lay under the coffee table. And most notably, a corner of the beautiful living room rug looked as if it had been thoroughly chewed, revealing pulled threads and obvious teeth marks.
"Oh dear..." Zoé murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief. "But what happened here during the night?"
She stood there for a few seconds, trying to understand this unexpected spectacle, wondering if Moka had been scared, if he had been bored, or if he had simply decided to redecorate the living room in his own way.
Before she could formulate a theory, a brown flash appeared from behind the sofa. Moka came running towards her at full speed, his tail whipping frantically in the air. He jumped on her with boundless enthusiasm, placing his front paws on her legs, and proceeded to shower her face and hands with a thousand affectionate licks.
"Hello, Moka!" said Zoé, laughing despite her surprise, her worry momentarily swept away by her companion's enthusiastic welcome. "So you're the one who made all this mess last night? You seemed to have a lot of fun!"
She kneels down to his level and strokes him for a long time, feeling the soft, warm fur of the little dog beneath her fingers. "Well, it's not so bad after all. Maybe you were bored all alone in the dark. We'll tidy everything up together."
Zoé methodically begins to gather the scattered toys, placing them one by one back into the basket, which she then straightens. She smooths the rug as best she can, mentally noting that it may need to be repaired later.
But as she busies herself tidying the living room, she notices something strange about Moka's behavior. The little dog isn't just quietly watching what she's doing. He circles her several times, making increasingly tighter circles. Then he strides purposefully toward the front door, places a front paw firmly against the wood, and turns back to Zoé, staring at her with an intense, pleading gaze. A plaintive whimper escapes his throat.
"Oh, you want to go out?" Zoé guesses, interpreting these signals which seem obvious to her.
Moka moaned again, louder this time, nervously wagged his tail and took a few quick, jerky steps in place, as if performing some strange dance.
"Okay, okay, I understand," said Zoé, smiling. "But just wait a little while, while I have my breakfast. You just woke up, you can wait a few minutes, can't you?"
She strolled towards the kitchen, unaware of the true urgency of the situation. After all, in her mind, Moka had all day. A few minutes more or less, what difference could it really make?
Zoé pours herself a large glass of juiceShe scoops up some fresh orange juice, generously spreads butter on a crusty slice of bread, even adds a thin layer of jam, and settles comfortably at the kitchen table. She savors her first bite with delight, letting her mind wander to all the wonderful activities she has planned with Moka today: a long walk in the park where he can run freely, perhaps a game of ball in the garden in the sunshine, and why not start teaching him a few simple tricks like sitting on command or giving his paw.
But suddenly, a faint, distinctive sound caught his attention, abruptly breaking the flow of his pleasant thoughts. A plop... clear and distinct, followed a few seconds later by another... then another...
She frowned, intrigued and vaguely worried. That noise didn't bode well. She hurriedly put her toast down on her plate and turned towards the entrance of the living room.
Her heart leaped in her chest. A mixture of surprise, disappointment, and guilt instantly overwhelmed her.
There, right in front of the front door, on the beautiful parquet floor they had cleaned so carefully yesterday, a large golden puddle spread inexorably, forming a wet and shiny stain that reflected the morning light.
"Oh no... Moka!" exclaimed Zoé, her voice betraying her deep dismay.
She rushes out of the kitchen, her half-eaten slice of toast still clutched in the hand she'd forgotten to put down. The little dog, a silent witness to her own failing, immediately lowers its head, its ears pinned back. Its gaze expresses obvious guilt, mixed with a certain confusion. Its tail, usually so expressive and playful, timidly flicks the air in small, hesitant movements. It remains perfectly still near the scene, as if petrified, as if it knew perfectly well that it had just done something wrong but hadn't really had any other choice.
"Moka, but why are you...?" Zoé begins, her voice tinged with reproach and incomprehension, but she stops abruptly when she sees the expression of the little dog.
Her mother, drawn by the noise and the exclamation, enters the room. She observes the scene with a calm and understanding eye, showing no particular anger or annoyance. She has seen much worse in her veterinary practice over the years.
"I think he simply couldn't wait any longer," she said softly, in a calm and educational voice.
Zoé felt a wave of heat rise to her cheeks. A flush of embarrassment and guilt spread across her face. "But... I didn't know I absolutely had to take it out right away, as soon as I woke up. I honestly thought it could wait a little while..."
Her mother knelt gracefully beside her, placing a reassuring and affectionate hand on her shoulder. "Think for a moment, my darling. Do you remember this morning, when Moka was circling around you and whimpering, staring fixedly at the door?"
Zoé nods slowly, mentally replaying the scene she hadn't taken seriously enough a few minutes earlier. A feeling of shame begins to gradually overwhelm her.
“He was trying to warn you, to communicate his urgent need,” his mother explained patiently in a soft voice. “A dog can’t speak our language, obviously. But he communicates constantly through his behavior, his gestures, his looks, his sounds. He clearly showed you that he urgently needed to go outside. It was a message as clear as if he could have told you with words.”»
Zoé lowered her eyes, truly ashamed now. She had indeed seen all the signs Moka had been insistently sending her, but she hadn't given them the attention they deserved. She had thought her own breakfast was more important, more urgent. She hadn't realized that for Moka, it was a genuine physiological emergency that he couldn't control indefinitely.
“He waited as long as he could,” his mother continued gently, without any judgment in her voice. “He showed remarkable patience and restraint. But when his body could no longer hold it in, when the urgency became absolutely unbearable… well, he had to go where he was, even though he probably knew it wasn’t the right place.”
Moka, who had followed this exchange with his large, expressive eyes, then gently approached Zoé. With touching tenderness, he rested his head against her leg, as if to apologize for this unfortunate incident that he could not avoid, but also to comfort her, perhaps sensing her discomfort and guilt.
"I didn't understand quickly enough," Zoé murmured in a small voice filled with sincere regret. "I wasn't paying attention to what he was trying to tell me."
“It’s really okay,” her mother reassured her with an understanding and kind smile. “This is your first experience with a dog, and you’re learning. But it’s a really important lesson you need to remember for the future: when you have a pet, and especially a dog, you must always be attentive and receptive to how it communicates with you. Their needs are sometimes urgent and pressing, and they rely entirely on you to understand and respond to them quickly.”
Zoé understands perfectly now. The lesson is clear and she certainly won't forget it. She takes a deep breath, gathers her courage, and straightens up with renewed determination.
"I'm going to clean it up," she decided firmly, taking full responsibility for what had happened.
She places her forgotten slice of toast on the living room table, fetches paper towels and a sponge from the kitchen, fills a bucket with soapy water, and gets to work diligently and seriously. She carefully wipes up the puddle, meticulously cleans the parquet floor, going over and over it again until everything is perfectly clean and there is no visible trace or lingering odor.
All this time, Moka remained seated quietly beside her, motionless like a small statue, watching her work with her large, round, attentive eyes, seemingly understanding intuitively that Zoé was repairing the consequences of her own misunderstanding.
When she has finally finished and the living room is spotless again, her mother approaches and affectionately places a hand on her shoulder.
"You reacted very well to this situation," she sincerely congratulated her. "You took responsibility, you cleaned up without complaining, and above all, you learned your lesson. So, tomorrow morning, what will you do differently?"
“Tomorrow, I’ll take Moka out as soon as I come down from my room,” Zoé replied with a determined smile and a newfound confidence in her voice. “Even before I think about my own breakfast! Her needs come first.”
She leans down and caresses Moka with renewed tenderness, almost as if to solemnly seal a promise between them.
"I'll do better from now on, I promise," she whispers softly in his ear.
Moka wags his tail with obvious joy, as if he understandsHe perfectly understood the words and sincere commitment of his young mistress. He gave her a long, affectionate lick on the cheek.
Zoé feels a new and different kind of pride rising within her. She now understands with crystal clarity that caring for a dog isn't just about playing with it, cuddling it, and enjoying its pleasant company. It's also, and above all, about learning to listen attentively to its needs, to understand its unique non-verbal communication, and to prioritize its emergencies over her own immediate desires. It's a true daily responsibility that demands constant attention, infinite patience, and continuous adaptation.
She is ready to take on this magnificent and demanding challenge.
But the next day, when Zoé enthusiastically decides to take Moka for her very first real walk around the neighborhood with her brand new leash, she will quickly discover that walking a dog in the street is absolutely not as simple and obvious as she had naively imagined...