Will you please, please teach me how to doggie?

I tune in to Nat Geo and there’s Cesar Milan. I tune in to HBO and they are showing Haichiko. And oh by the way I just finished reading Marley and Me. Naturally I’m thinking that God wants me to have another dog. But I already have two and I have a small apartment and most of the time the apartment smells like Bio Research.

At night, when I take down the mattress and the blanket, the first to climb into the bed are my two dogs. When the boyfriend sleeps over, Chichi snuggles between us and curl up. Last night, I found myself sleeping on the floor because she has effectively pushed me out of the bed. Chichi’s a bit bipolar. She always has an anxious look on her face. When I still had a balcony, she loved spending lots of time staring at the horizon, thinking of God knows what. I hope she’s not thinking of leaving me because I would cut my arm for her. Marcel, on the other hand, is the cheerful one. He always has a hearty appetite. He would eat everything, even my cable wire. He loves wires. Yesterday, I brought home two large bones for them. He instantly seized the treats and ran to our room. He then spent the entire day cradling and chewing his bone till bedtime. That’s when I realized that I haven’t pampered Marcel enough. But definitely Marcel’s the pilyo one. Just this week, he has acquired the habit of peeing on me. Yes, on me. I was standing near the kitchen when I felt something wet and hot dripping on my calves. When I looked down, there he was the culprit Marcel, running fast away from me. The boyfriend and I have this joke that we call “Marcel ate wut?” Marcel ate what? My shoes! Marcel ate what? The laptop! Marcel ate what? The apartment! One day, I will bring home an anaconda (which I would name Sasa) and I’ll ask “Sasa ate what?” Marcel!

Wut? Arf! Arf!

Recently, I found myself browsing for dogs online. But since I don’t think I could afford having another one, I’m thinking of getting a hamster instead. Maybe I could name him Hamlet. Hamlet, the hamster. That sounds good. If only I could adopt a cat. I already have a name. Catty Perry. Haha.

Marcel, by the way, hates jazz. When I listen to Thelonious Monk (wow, me ganon), he goes berserk. He would run up to me and he would tilt his head back and forth. And then he would let out a howl. He loves books though. He has devoured Ginsberg, Graham Green and Tony Perez. Eclectic taste no. Marcel, after all, was named after a famous French author.


Chichi knows the word longing all too well


Marcel either hates jazz or he thinks he's the reincarnation of thelonious monk

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