Trophy

Blood dripped from the open wound on his chest towards the left. Mohammed and I stared at each other. But Mocha was sitting and looking at us with his loving eyes as if nothing had happened. I raised my eyebrow at Mohammed; he just shrugged.
Soon, there was a puddle of blood on the soil. We were clueless. To run to the animal hospital? Apply some cream? Or just leave it?
Mocha reached up and licked my hand as if to say he is okay. He looked okay, only the sight of the blood was disturbing.
“Do you think he fought with another dog?” I asked.
“Probably” replied Mohammed, my caretaker at the farm.
“Wait, what season is this?”
“Hot summer,” Mohammed said, laughing. “Mating season.”
Ah, it finally figured why Mocha was cool with his wound though it was bleeding like an open tap. The wound was his trophy. He must have fought with other males for that trophy female of that area!
I know what you are thinking. Mocha recovered from his wound within a few days and continued as if nothing had happened. No, we did not apply any medication. We let the dogs manage their wounds which they did by licking them.
A few weeks later we found out that Mocha’s wound was not only the trophy for winning against other males in the area, he also established himself as the leader of the dogs around our farm at Semarang!