Susan narrating
I’ve been worried sick about Oishi.
He hasn’t been judgmental and distant like he normally is.
Instead, he’s clingy.
Paranoid.
He’s been asking Anghelito and Angelusito to close all the curtains like we’re hiding from the FBI.
One night I almost broke my neck because he turned off all the lights and left a squeaky toy in the hallway.
He’s been staying in his dog bed — which he rarely uses — and avoiding the couch.
He used to sleep on my bed like he pays rent.
Now?
He crawls under the sofa when I grab his leash.
And that’s when I knew.
Something is wrong.
Maybe he’s depressed.
Nah.
That smug little Shih Tzu has no emotions.
Right?
⸻
Oishi narrating
I do have emotions.
Unfortunately.
Listen.
Last Saturday, Sus and I were walking at the park. That’s our thing.
She walks.
I supervise.
She enjoys the “eating after walking” part more, but that’s beside the point.
She left me for five minutes to buy milk tea.
Five.
Minutes.
And that’s when it happened.
I bumped into a furry creature.
I looked up.
A cat.
My heart tried to exit my chest.
But I reminded myself:
Calm down. I have a cat friend. Fippo. He’s decent.
This one could be decent too.
I mean… look at me.
Good hair.
Strong stance.
Naturally charming.
I was about to greet him.
He crossed his arms.
Oh.
So we’re doing this.
A staring contest.
I always win against Susan.
I will not fold.
⸻
The sun was high.
People started gathering.
Someone said, “I’ll bet on the cat. The dog looks soft.”
Soft?!
Me?!
The audacity.
Then I heard Susan from a distance:
“GO BADOODLE! CLAP CLAP! GO!”
Like she was auditioning for Dancing with the Stars.
I was sweating.
My leg was itching.
The crowd was cheering.
The cat never blinked.
But I saw it.
He was struggling.
This was my moment.
I inhaled deeply—
And inhaled dander.
“Achoo!”
“Achoo!”
And that was it.
The crowd erupted.
The cat lifted his paw.
Champion.
For those who didn’t know…
I lost because I sneezed.
Susan picked me up like the baby that I am and kissed my forehead.
“It’s okay, badoodle. You’re still my champ.”
But I didn’t feel like a champ.
I felt small.
⸻
So no, Susan.
I wasn’t depressed.
I was ashamed.
Ashamed I lost.
Ashamed I folded.
Ashamed I cared.
I started hiding.
Closing curtains.
Avoiding the park.
Is this what losing feels like?
I didn’t know what to do.
So obviously—
I asked the angels.
Who asks Susan for advice?
She means well, but she would say:
“Suck it up and stop being dramatic.”
⸻
I told Anghelito and Angelusito everything.
“I think I have emotions now,” I said.
“I feel angry at myself. I feel ashamed. I keep replaying the sneeze.”
Anghelito nodded.
“It is natural to feel disappointment when you lose,” he said.
“But shame does not belong there.”
“Even professionals lose — but they don’t let one moment decide who they are.”
Angelusito added.
Even then, they said, athletes feel it too.
But they don’t tie their identity to it.
⸻
“So what do they do?” I asked.
“They practice,” Anghelito said.
“If Michael Jordan stayed home and closed his curtains every time he lost, would he become the greatest?”
No.
He practiced.
He improved.
He tried again.
“So I shouldn’t give up?”
“In games? Practice and try again,” Angelusito said.
“But give up your ego.”
That one hurt.
“If I had just walked away,” I whispered, “this wouldn’t have happened.”
They both came closer.
“For petty pride battles,” they said gently,
“Turn the other cheek.”
If you’re not being bullied.
If you’re not being harmed.
You don’t have to prove yourself.
Not every challenge deserves your identity.
⸻
“So what did I learn?” I asked.
Three things:
• Turn the other cheek.
• Do not engage in pettiness.
• Never give up on things worth improving — but drop your ego.
They touched my head.
It felt peaceful.
I was about to deliver a dramatic monologue—
When we heard sirens.
An ambulance.
Outside our house.
Susan burst in.
“OISHIIII! OISHIIII!”
She grabbed the medic and shouted:
“My dog is depressed. Cure him!”
Paw to forehead.
Classic Sus.
⸻
The End.
Still Rising.
Still Barking.
Ember - Fire and Soul 
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