Meet Marcel. He is a terrier slash Labrador slash Azkal. Yes, just like Phil Younghusband (only cuter and hairier?). The first time he came to the apartment he was with a cute, young poet. When I opened the door, I immediately noticed the cute smile on the poet’s face and I thought: Man, I’m so going to get laid tonight!
No, that was a joke.
But before I could ask him to come in he said: “Someone wants to meet you.” And I thought shet finally Piolo has received my e-mails! And then he showed me little Marcel wrapped in a white blanket. My heart, as expected, quickly did a somersault. Twice!
I have been planning on getting another dog since the X left. I noticed that Chichi was also experiencing some kind of depression. Every time I would leave for work, she would bite my ankle and bark endlessly until I was out of the apartment. Both of us, I think, were drowning. On certain nights, I would look at her and she would look at me and she would stand up and wait by the door while I would lock myself in my room trying to wage a full battle with my own depression.
The first night was a bit stressful. My greatest fear was that Chichi will never get over the fact that someone will now share the apartment with her. She barked at him all night while he snuggled between the sheets. Fortunately by the next day the two were already play-biting.
As a result the apartment is almost always a mess. I spend almost half of my time cooking and cleaning-up after the two dogs. Every time I arrive at the apartment there will be scoops of poop in some parts while puddles of pee in others. The good thing though is that Chichi no longer harasses me whenever I go out. I think she’s a bit okay now although she has grown considerably thinner. I hope she regains her I appetite but then she has always been picky with food. Marcel, on the other hand, eats everything. But yes, it’s no longer an apartment with dogs but dogs with an apartment and for the meantime I’m just crashing at their place.