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Category: Susan & Oishi: The Melodramatic Hooman and Her Little Stoic PhilosoFurr

  • Susan & Oishi Meet Anghelito, Angelusito, and Demonyito (Part 1) 😇 😈

    🕊️ Narrated by: Kap Angel

    “¡Como están todos! I’m Kap Angel, your heavenly narrator for today—so buckle up and maybe say a little prayer.”

    Now, you’re probably wondering:

    “Why is this charming uncle-angel narrating instead of the loud hooman and her judgmental Shih Tzu?”

    Valid question.

    Let’s rewind to the incident at Heaven’s kitchen.

    Scene 1: The Great Lechon War

    It all began with two angels — Anghelito and Angelusito — fighting over the last piece of lechon.

    (Yes, lechon. Don’t ask. It’s heaven. We have range.)

    The tug-of-war got so intense that the meat flew into the air, hit the ceiling, and knocked the coffee machine off balance. Again.

    These two?

    Always doing harmless but highly annoying things.

    Yesterday, Angelusito took the last muffin and ate it in slow motion in front of Anghelito.

    So naturally, Anghelito drank Angelusito’s glass of water…

    …which caused a dramatic choking fit and a surprise trip to the heavenly clinic.

    Sometimes I ask the Boss why these two are still up here.

    But then again, our Boss is love. And also… justice.

    So I did what every Kap would do:

    I tattled. 😇

    Scene 2: Judgment Daylight

    We stood before the Almighty.

    Too majestic to describe. So I just… humbly explained the mess.

    And then, God spoke.

    “One of the greatest commandments is to love your neighbor as yourself…”

    “But you two? You keep fighting over muffins and meat.”

    Angelusito gasped dramatically — Heaven’s WIFI glitched for a second.

    “As a lesson,” God continued, “you will be sent down to look after Susan and Oishi.”

    I nodded solemnly.

    They begged for a different assignment.

    Then Father God added “I love them as I love all my creation. My Son have met them. Honestly… they’re just like you two”

    Scene 3: Jesus’ Farewell Speech

    At the gate, just before takeoff, Jesus appeared.

    “Anghelito, Angelusito… you’re going to a broken world.”

    “You’ll experience injustice, discouragement, maybe even get mocked — like they did to Me.”

    “You’ll face doubt. And it’ll sting.”

    Angelusito raised his hand:

    “Lord, can You convince Father God to let us stay?”

    Jesus smiled.

    “The decision’s made. But I will be with you — always. Even in the darkest valley.”

    “Encourage them. Be good to them. And if their attitude makes you want to scream…”

    “Remember… I died for them.”

    Oof. That one always lands.

    Kap Angel’s Notes on the Duo

    • Anghelito: Pilot. Stoic. Loves Jesus but doesn’t laugh when God tells jokes.

    Later that day, he told me the Lord’s joke was hilarious and that he “almost cried.”

    • Angelusito: Overthinker. Sweet, but too caught up in details.

    One time, an angel sprained her wing, and instead of helping, he debated which type of bandage was best for 15 minutes.

    Anyway. Off they went. Assigned to Susan and Oishi. Heaven help us.

    Cut to Earth — Oishi Narrates (Grumpily)

    It was a regular Saturday. I was minding my own business when I saw Susan holding a frying pan… headed to the bathroom.

    I thought, “Oh no, not this again.”

    She looked at me, did that weird “I see you, you see me” military hand signal, and whispered,

    “Oishi, I hear noises in the toilet. Must be a rat.”

    We crept closer. She turned the knob slowly…

    And then—boom.

    There was a tiny demon with a plunger.

    Just standing there.

    “Greetings, hooman and dog,” he said.

    (Excuse me? Dog? I’m a BABY.) 🤬

    “I’m Demonyito,” he announced. “I’m here to make your lives mildly inconvenient until your patience collapses!”

    “You’ll feel annoyed… fed up… then you’ll snap!”

    “You’ll be rude to others, bark at your friends, and BOOM — you’ve forgotten kindness. That’s how I win.”

    Then he threw the plunger at the faucet, flooded the bathroom, and bolted out laughing like a possessed karaoke machine.

    Susan screamed. I barked.

    To be continued…🐾😇😈

  • I Still Bought the Shoes, Lord

    Oishi Narrating
    It was a beautiful Sunday — sunny, clear, and breezy — so Sus decided we should go to the park.
    As usual, she walked while I ran. The air was fresh, the grass smelled alive, and as I sniffed around, I noticed a faint glow in the distance. It wasn’t too bright, but it felt… peaceful. Then I saw Him again — the Man with a hole in His hand.

    The first time I saw Him was when Sus and I encountered those ghosties (don’t ask). The second time was in my dream, right before a coconut nearly hit my head. But this time, He was just there — calm, kind, glowing.

    I was about to call Sus when, of course, she saw Him first.
    “Loooord! You’re here!” she shouted dramatically, sprinting toward Him. Before I could even roll my eyes, she had already plopped herself on the swing beside Him.

    “Lord,” she said breathlessly, “I saw a beautiful pair of gold stilettos — like the kind angels wear at weddings!”

    Jesus smiled gently. “How are you, my child? You seem happy today. I’m glad you’re this joyful.” Then He chuckled. “Ah, stilettos and gold — must be nice… but no, Sus.”

    Susan Narrating
    Sunday morning, I woke up so excited. The weather looked perfect, and Oishi was nibbling at the hem of my pajamas — his usual way of saying ‘feed me, peasant.’

    But instead of feeding him, I opened my laptop. I’d been eyeing this pair of gold stilettos for a week now. The kind that makes you feel like you’re walking on a runway. I could already imagine it: one, two, walk, flip hair, slay.

    Still, there was this small voice whispering, Don’t buy it.
    So I prayed — but not exactly to ask for guidance. I prayed to convince God to support my decision. (Don’t judge me. You’ve done it too.)

    After my “prayer,” I opened the window, felt the morning breeze, and decided to go to the park. I fed Oishi — he ate like he hadn’t eaten in weeks and even burped in front of me. Disrespectful, but adorable.

    At the park, everything was calm. The wind, the trees, the sound of children playing. Then Oishi barked and ran toward the playground. I followed… and that’s when I felt it — peace. That quiet, steady kind of peace that feels like a hug.

    And there He was. Sitting on the swing.
    You just know it’s Him. Gentle yet powerful. Approachable but with authority. I ran toward Him, half crying, half giggling. “Loooord! You’re here!”

    I sat beside Him, still catching my breath. “Lord, I’ve been eyeing this pair of gold stilettos. They’re so pretty — like shoes angels wear at weddings!”

    He smiled, asked how I’d been, how Oishi was, and then said softly, “They’re beautiful, but no, Sus.”
    And just like that, my heart cracked like a dry biscuit.

    Oishi Narrating Again
    On the way home, Sus kept sobbing. She hugged me like a pillow.
    “Oishiii… Jesus said no. But I really, really like the shoes.”

    When we got home, she opened her laptop again and clicked “Buy Now.”
    I said, “Sus, Big Guy said no.”
    She ignored me.

    A few hours later, the doorbell rang. She screamed like she’d won the lottery.
    The package had arrived — she even paid for express shipping.

    When she opened the box, her eyes sparkled like a child’s first trip to Disneyland. She lifted the shoes, sniffed them, and started rubbing them like a magic lamp.
    “They’re so beautiful! I still don’t understand why Jesus said no.”

    Later that day, she went to a party with Brenda and Yohanes — wearing those golden heels. The problem? She couldn’t even walk properly.
    “I can handle it, Oishiii!” she said, wobbling toward the door like a baby deer on stilts.

    A few hours later… “Oishiii! I can’t handle it!”

    Brenda and Yohanes carried her in like wounded soldiers. Her feet were swollen and red. “I thought I could handle it,” she winced. “Now I understand why Jesus said nope. Oishiii, don’t pour too much alcohol!”

    She couldn’t go to work for three days. Kept saying she regretted not listening.

    When she finally recovered, we went back to the park that evening.
    There He was again — sitting on the swing, peaceful as always.

    Sus walked over, face full of remorse.
    “Lord,” she sighed, “I still bought the gold shoes… right after we talked. I thought I could handle it. I didn’t understand why You said no.”

    But instead of scolding her (as I totally would have), Jesus smiled and said,
    “Let’s start over. This time, listen. Keep praying. Discern, okay, Sus?”

    Sus nodded like a toddler, then hugged Him tight. He hugged her back.
    And me? I nibbled at the edge of His robe — just to join the moment.
    We all laughed.

    Still Rising, Still Barking. 🐾🔥

    ✍️ Writer’s Note

    Most of us are like Susan — we keep insisting even when God says no. We rely on our own understanding, thinking we know what’s best. But sometimes, that no is God’s protection — a gentle way of saying, “Not yet, because you are not ready,” or “That’s not for you.”

    If she had the “training,” meaning maturity, readiness, or even discernment, maybe the answer could’ve been yes later on. But in that moment, Jesus knew she’d get hurt — literally blistered feet and all.

    Let’s learn to trust Him more, even when His answer isn’t what we wanted. Because His no always leads to something better.

    “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding;
    in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
    — Proverbs 3:5–6 (NIV)

  • ✈️ Delulu Island: Where God Rerouted My Vacation

    Narrated by Oishi

    For the past few weeks, Susan’s been operating on full-blown Dramatic Mode. I—Oishi, her long-suffering emotional support furball—have reached my limit.

    It’s too hot. Then it’s too cold. It’s too noisy. Then too quiet.

    The food? Either too salty, too sweet, or “my siopao tastes different.”

    Mind you, she’s been buying siopao from the same store for the past five years.

    Every day it’s:

    “Badoodle, I need a vacation.

    A new place. Or a new planet.”

    She opens her laptop like she’s searching for a new galaxy. Then suddenly—sparkles.

    Cheap flight.

    Eyes wide.

    Voice dramatic.

    “Badoodle, prepare your things. We’re going to an island.”

    And then she goes full delulu:

    “I’m imagining myself in a swimsuit… hair down, sunglasses on…

    Then one Adonis approaches and says,

    ‘Hey, you look stunning. Can I have your number?’”

    She flips her hair like she’s on a shampoo commercial. Meanwhile, I’m internally bleeding.

    But okay—an island sounds nice.

    Sit by the shore.

    Coconut juice.

    Chicken on a stick.

    Heaven.

    Next thing I know, she scoops me up, throws me into a tote bag, and boom—we’re at the airport.

    Susan narrating

    I was so excited I packed light. Scooped Badoodle. Zipped out the door.

    But when we got on the plane… something felt off.

    No flight attendants.

    All the other passengers were in uniform.

    There were literal cargo crates.

    Then I gasped.

    “Badoodle…

    We got on the wrong plane.”

    I ran to the pilot—who, by the way, looked very serious—and said,

    “Miss Pilot, this is a mistake. I need to get off.”

    She looked me dead in the eye:

    “We’re airborne.

    Sit down.”

    “Where is this plane going??”

    “10 AM tomorrow. You’ll see.”

    It was 7 AM.

    Do the math.

    I croaked,

    “Where… are we going?”

    She looked back once and said:

    “Tijibuduri Delulu Island.”

    Excitement: gone.

    What kind of island has “Delulu” in the name?!

    We passed through three storms.

    There was turbulence that felt like someone was shaking a soda can.

    I’ve had smoother rides on roller coasters.

    Finally, the plane landed. The doors opened.

    And there were people waiting—hundreds of them.

    The military team started unloading boxes of food. One sergeant looked at me:

    “You. Help.”

    So… I helped.

    We were taken to a nearby camp.

    I found out that the people here had lost everything—to war and typhoons.

    They weren’t vacationers.

    They were waiting… for relief.

    So I cooked. I served.

    I lifted boxes. I cleaned up.

    I did what I could.

    And that night, I was exhausted. But not in a bad way.

    The kind of tired that comes after doing something that matters.

    Badoodle and I sat by the shore. Quiet.

    A soldier walked by and asked,

    “Where were you supposed to be going?”

    I smiled. Weakly.

    “Somewhere with sunsets, piña coladas, barbecue, and dancing.

    A vacation to stop complaining about my life…”

    But I sighed.

    “Lately, all I see are the things that are missing.

    So I booked this trip to escape.

    And instead

    I found perspective.”

    He nodded. And then he said:

    “I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

    Philippians 4:11–13

    Goosebumps.

    He walked away.

    I scooped Oishi, knelt by the sand, and prayed.

    “God… I’m sorry.

    For letting petty things blur the bigger picture.

    For complaining about things others are still praying for.”

    Life is like a pingpong ball.

    You get thrown in all directions.

    Sometimes up.

    Sometimes down.

    You can be bitter about it—

    Or laugh about it.

    Either way…

    Life will happen.

    And from now on

    I choose to live with love, laughter, and gratitude.

    With my furball by my side.

    Still Rising. Still Barking. 🐾

  • Badoodle, I’m Writing to My Past Self

    Susan Narrating – Past

    Five years ago, I was standing in the middle of my new apartment. Boxes everywhere.

    I had just moved because I found a little pup under a tree, soaking wet and crying like a telenovela extra. My old apartment didn’t allow pets.

    I rescued him and named him Oishi. My badoodle. He’s cute, but also weird—he refuses to take off the red bandana I put on him, and don’t even get me started on his glasses. But they look good on him, so they stay.

    I was happy. Hopeful. This felt like the start of good things finally unfolding.

    As I unpacked, I noticed something outside. The postbox was… glowing. My heart did little cartwheels. I scooped Oishi up and whispered, “Maybe there’s a Keanu Reeves out there, like The Lake House, sending me a letter.”

    I nearly tripped rushing out.

    When I reached the postbox, I prayed:

    “Please, God, a letter from my future husband.”

    It kept glowing. We just stood there—me and my badoodle—staring at it.

    Oishi Narrating – Present

    Badoodle? Where are you? Come hug me.

    I’m drained. My ears are bleeding from Susan’s dramatics these past weeks.

    She keeps asking: “Oishi, is this life? Is this it? We wake up, work, sleep, repeat?”

    We still walk in the park, sneak into cinemas, eat siopao at 2 AM, binge The Detective Agency.

    But she only sees the routine.

    I, Oishi, am actually content.

    Then she starts telling me her dreams, like I can make them happen:

    “I want to travel, Oishi. Imagine us on a desert safari in Dubai, swimming in the Maldives, watching a Phnom Penh sunset. Snow! Or a coffee shop in Paris where a handsome stranger asks, ‘Is this seat taken?’”

    I bark to snap her out of her delusion… but then I notice her teary eyes, wide with longing — like a ten-year-old begging for ice cream before dinner.

    I walk over and rest my face on her lap. She hugs me tight.

    “I’m so glad I found you,” she whispers. “Remember that day, badoodle?”

    Tears slide down her cheeks. “I’m tired, Oishi. It feels like I’m just working to live another day. I have friends, but I have longings too.”

    Susan is a lot, but she keeps showing up. I admire that.

    Then she stands up, grabs pen and paper.

    “I’m writing a letter to my past self—to remind her not to give up.”

    She still believes that glowing postbox has magic. So do I.

    Susan’s Letter to Her Past Self

    To my ever‑dramatic, ever‑beautiful self:

    Life will happen. You’ll hurt and you’ll hurt others, even unintentionally.

    You’ll stumble and fall. You’ll feel stuck even when you give your best.

    You’ll be afraid. Depressed. Anxious.

    Longing will hit deep.

    One day you’ll say you’ve had enough.

    But know this: We. Don’t. Give. Up.

    When you’re down, remember your blessings: Oishi, your walks in the park, family, friends.

    You can’t travel yet, but you can explore new recipes, try new things, live life while waiting for dreams to come true.

    Most of all, remember:

    God is with us.

    With us when our minds spiral like spaghetti.

    With us when pillows are soaked with tears.

    With us when we laugh at midnight siopao.

    Life isn’t all bad. Learn to count your blessings and work your dreams with God.

    Love, Me ❤️.

    Susan folds the letter. We walk outside. The postbox glows again.

    She breathes—inhale, exhale, like she’s been practicing.

    As she extends her arm to drop the letter, an eagle swoops down and snatches it.

    We stand there, jaws dropped.

    Then she scoops me up: “Badoodle, let’s go to Boyo.”

    Poor Boyo. He’ll hear the whole story.

    Later, as we’re about to sleep, I see her kneeling with tears in her eyes.

    And I know God is listening.

    She stays there quietly kneeling, her back slightly hunched as if the weight of everything is finally being offered up.

    And I stay close, like I always do. No barking. No judgment. Just stillness.

    The night doesn’t answer her out loud.

    But the stars don’t leave.

    The breeze doesn’t rush.

    And somehow, in all the silence,

    I feel it too

    a presence bigger than pain,

    a peace deeper than the questions.

    She stands up slowly and wipes her eyes.

    Then smiles at me, the real kind.

    Like maybe she doesn’t have it all figured out

    but she remembered she’s not alone.

    We head back inside.

    And as she locks the door, she whispers:

    “Maybe tomorrow will still be messy… but I think we’re going to be okay.”

    Writer’s Note 🐶📓

    We’ve all longed like Susan.

    We’ve all been hurt, anxious, depressed, stuck, lost.

    We ask ourselves: “Is this it? Is this life?”

    We chase what we don’t have, live in a future that hasn’t come, or a past that won’t return.

    This is your reminder—like Susan’s letter—that no matter what happens:

    We don’t give up.

    We keep pressing forward.

    We keep believing that Someone loves us enough to give His life for us ❤️.

    Still Rising. Still Barking. 🐾

  • Susan’s Romance Fever (And My Burnt Chicken)

    Susan’s got a romance fever, and I (Oishi) am the collateral damage. Milk on my head, burnt chicken in my bowl, and zero park trips for two weeks — all because of a pocketbook and some French guy with a jawline sharp enough to cut siopao. When I finally staged a hostage crisis with the book, Susan snapped back… sort of. Boyo showed up with chicken (praise be), and Sus prayed for a “ride or die.” Me? I just want my siopao back.

    Oishi Narrating

    For the past few weeks Susan has been ignoring me. She’s hooked on this little book and can’t put it down. The other day she even poured milk on my head without noticing! She cooks without looking—left hand holding the book, right hand stirring the pot. Guess what happened? My chicken got burnt. And then she had the audacity to say, “Oishi, just eat your dog food!”

    Excuse me? Dog food?! She has always called me badoodle or baby fur. Now suddenly I’m dog? The nerve. And those kibbles taste like sand, thank you very much.

    The laundry is piling up, the house is a mess, and she hasn’t taken me to the park in two weeks. Two. Weeks! But the last straw wasn’t even that—it was when she kept giggling at night, flipping her hair, whispering that she felt like Madeleine. Who the heck is Madeleine?

    Last night I couldn’t take it anymore. I bit the book and ran. Susan yelled, “Oishi, give that back!” But I stood my ground, clutching it in my teeth like a hostage situation. She finally surrendered, scooped me up, and said, “Okay badoodle, I’ll tell you the story.” She was flipping her hair like she was in a dog shampoo commercial.

    She began “This is called a pocketbook, badoodle. Mostly romance.”

    (Like I care—but fine, maybe this will get her back to normal.)

    Then she added with a dramatic hair flip:

    “This book—The Tower, the River, and the Jawline—is a romance masterpiece.”

    She continued: “Paris, 1950. Madeleine, with long wavy hair, luscious lips, lashes for days…” She glanced at me and whispered, “Like me.” I gave her a blank stare.

    Madeleine, apparently, was waiting for a man—steady, brave, confident, godly. (Susan sighed loudly at this part. Dramatic much?)

    Then came François. Crisp white shirt, suspenders, broad shoulders, jawline sharp enough to cut siopao. Susan was floating as she described him. I barked to break the spell.

    “He sat by the Seine River, gray eyes brooding, and said, ‘Somewhere between the silence and the stars I will find you.’”

    Susan jumped, checked the mirror, picked me up, put me down, paced to the toilet like she was possessed.

    Then she whispered, “And badoodle, Madeleine met François mid-road and he said, ‘Every step through silence led me to you.’”

    Susan clutched her chest and sighed: “How I wish I could meet a man like that. Someone who treats me like a princess.”

    I thought: Exaggerated princess, sure.

    Just then, Boyo barged in with siopao, milk tea, and chicken (finally, someone useful). My ears perked up—chicken trumps romance any day. Boyo spotted the book and asked, “Love story? Any good?”

    Susan retold the whole thing while Boyo nodded and yawned. I didn’t care. I was busy demolishing chicken. At least Susan snapped back to reality. She started cleaning again, Boyo helped with dishes, and she tucked me into bed later, whispering, “Even if I don’t have a companion just yet, badoodle, I’m happy because I have you.” Then she glanced at Boyo and muttered, “…Fine. And Boyo too.”

    But then Boyo said:

    “Sus, find a man who’ll cherish you no matter what, who stays through happy and hard times, who gives as much as he receives. A relationship is a partnership. Your ride or die.”

    To my surprise, Sus nodded. She even asked, “Anything else?” Paw-to-forehead!

    Later that night, she tucked me in and whispered, “Don’t tell Boyo, but I agree with him. Oh Oishi, how I wish I could find someone like François…”

    She prayed that night, asking God for her ride or die. A man steady in faith, someone who would cherish her and keep God at the center. And, of course, she asked for a sign—like flickering my toy lamp three times.

    Paw to forehead. Classic Sus.

    Still Rising. Still Barking ❤️🐾

  • Susan & Oishi in the 1950s: A Vintage Glimpse

    Ever wondered what Susan and Oishi might’ve looked like in the 1950s? We took a playful trip back in time to imagine their everyday lives in a simpler, sassier era — when feather dusters were weapons of housewife pride, phones had rotary dials, and televisions had antennas you had to bite (well, if you were Oishi).

    Here’s a peek at their retro routine: Susan in full housewife mode doing laundry and cleaning in heels, dolled up at the diner while Oishi steals her burger, and of course, barking at furnitures.

    Set in a time of pastel kitchens, vinyl booths, and Saturday cartoons, this vintage-style series celebrates the timeless chaos of fur and friendship — no matter the decade.


    Susan, armed with sass and a feather duster.

    Susan: dolled up. Oishi: full belly. The date? Never showed up.

    Laundry day blues, 1950s edition

    When your dog thinks the TV antena is edible

    Susan’s trying to gossip with the neighbors… meanwhile Oishi is eating the telephone chord like it’s spaghetti. 📞🐶🍝

    And that’s your glimpse into the world of Susan & Oishi — 1950s edition.

    StillRising. StillBarking 🧼📺☎️✨

  • The Sacred Simplicity of Sunday Mornings

    Trusting God Beyond Material Wishes

    Susan Narrating

    I love Sunday mornings.

    They’re slow, soft, and sacred  like a fresh start wrapped in sunlight. Every time I wake up, I feel happy, alive, and oddly hopeful. There’s a golden ray peeking through our window, and somehow… the world just feels kind.

    Then Oishi, my badoodle, wakes up. And I kid you not, he opens my drawer (yes, really) and pulls out my small Bible. The one my mom gave me back in my rebellion days. That’s Oishi’s way of saying, “Let’s pray.”

    So we did.

    “Thank You, Lord, for this beautiful day.”

    Just then, we heard a knock.

    It was Boyo, our neighbor. “Get ready for church!”

    So we got moving. I took a shower and regretted doing it before giving Oishi a bath. He wagged, shook, and soaked me in dog-scented droplets. He hates showers. I love watching him look slightly less composed, no glasses, no red bandana  just soggy and suspicious.

    We got dressed, grabbed a quick bite (quick, not full  because the best part of Sundays is post-church barbecue). So. Much. Fun. 😆💃🍢✨

    Oishi Narrating

    The streets were alive. The  sun is shining, people are dancing Zumba. Barkmates were out. My cat “friend” Fippo was sitting on the mailbox, judging every passerby like it’s his job. Joggers jogged, others chatted, and someone even let the sunshine kiss their face while sitting peacefully on a bench.

    Susan scooped me up. I thought it was because she was feeling holy.

    Nope.

    She leaned in and whispered, “Oishi… I’m hungry.”

    Of course.

    I had been nudging her toward the rice cooker earlier, but she refused. She said she’d eat after church.

    Inside the church, the priest began reading:

    “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you…” — Matthew 7:7

    Susan knelt down. I thought, Wow, she’s being sincere today.

    And then I heard her whisper:

    “Lord, please… iPhone 16. And PRO. Maybe plant the idea in Boyo’s head? He seems to like me.”

    🐾 Paw to my forehead.

    The priest continued:

    “Which of you, if your child asks for bread, would give them a stone?
    Or if they ask for fish, would give a snake?
    If you who are flawed know how to give good gifts…
    How much more your Father in heaven?”

    Then he preached.

    He said:

    “Yes, God invites us to ask. But that verse isn’t about a shopping list  it’s about trust.
    A relationship.
    Sometimes, we ask for an iPhone. Or a car.
    And sure, those desires aren’t bad.
    But like a loving father, God sees what’s actually good and what isn’t.”

    Susan and I side-eyed each other. She tried not to laugh. I barked once in support of the priest.

    Sermon Summary (a.k.a. What Susan Needed to Hear)

    🔸 Asking means pursuing God, not just gifts.
    🔸 The “good things” He gives? Think peace, wisdom, strength — not just gadgets.
    🔸 Not everything we want is good for us.
    So God sometimes says:

    • Yes (because it’s right – and we’re ready)
    • No (because it could harm us)
    • Not yet (because we’re not ready – maybe because He’s still pruning us, helping us grow before the gift comes)

    It’s not about being perfect in prayer — it’s about being close.

    God isn’t a vending machine. He’s a Father.

    And somehow, that’s better.

    Susan nodded during the homily.
    I could tell she got it.

    Later That Day…

    We left church. Susan walked directly to the siopao stand. Halfway through her first bite, she asked Boyo, “What time is the barbecue?” Turns out… it was lunch. She lit up like a child on Christmas.

    We ate, we laughed. I got a chicken skewer. (Don’t judge me — I’m part of the family.)

    It was a good day.

    Susan forgot about the neighbor who sang “My Way” at 11 PM the night before.

    We went home.
    Tired, full, happy.

    And before the day ended… we both whispered:

    “Thank You, Lord.”

    God’s love is fatherly, not transactional. He’s more into our growth than our wish list.

    But He’ll always listen to the wish list too  because to Him, it’s part of loving you.

    Still rising. Still barking. 🐾
    Susan & Oishi

  • 🐾 BARKIMONY: The Emotional Summit of Unlikely Animals

    Narrated by: Susan

    It was no ordinary Saturday morning. That sounds dramatic, but I mean it.

    Usually, Oishi wakes me up by nibbling the edge of my pajama pants, then stares into my soul until I give him breakfast and take him for a walk. It’s our sacred ritual. But today? Nothing. Nada. Radio silence.

    I sat up groggily and thought, Huh, that’s weird. Then I heard voices from the kitchen. Plural.

    So naturally, I dragged my half-conscious self into the kitchen—and immediately questioned my entire grip on reality.

    There was a blue horse holding a carton of oat milk, awkwardly smiling like he was trying to impress a Tinder date. His teeth were dazzling.

    Next to him, a green elephant was holding my cereal like it was his birthright.

    An orange chihuahua sat in the corner wearing noise-canceling headphones, probably listening to a TED Talk.

    There was a cat with its face fully smushed against the window—just vibing.

    And a K9 dog in a tactical vest was stationed at the door like he was guarding a presidential parade. I mean… who’s trying to shoot us?

    Then there was Meutang—a purple aquatic creature we once rescued from the Great Fishnap. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a tiny inflatable pool ring. Why? Who knows.

    And finally… my Oishi.

    Sitting at the head of the table. On a cushion. Eating roast chicken. Drinking something that suspiciously looked like wine.

    He saw my face—the face of a woman emotionally spiraling before her caffeine—and calmly slid a stack of laminated ID cards toward me. Like this was normal.

    I blinked at him. He blinked back. He knew I had questions.

    Narrated by: Oishi (Your Local Philosofurr)

    Every Friday night and Saturday morning, Susan and I do our sacred park walk. It’s our bonding moment. We talk (well, she talks), eat snacks, and reflect on life like unpaid therapists.

    But during these walks… I met others.

    There was the blue horse. The green elephant. Budd the K9. We sniffed once, and now we’re brothers.

    Don’t even get me started on Budd’s music taste—Dancing Queen. He claims it calms his nerves. I get it. The beat slaps.

    Anyway—today’s different. I didn’t wake Susan up. Why?

    Because at exactly 3:27 AM, I got a call from Sashmi, our communications pug. She said Budd witnessed a group of humans trying to dynamite Meutang’s hometown: The Fishball Sea.

    Unacceptable.

    So I barked the alert. The Barkimony Delegates assembled.

    There was stomping, growling, some dramatic slow-motion leaps. Budd might’ve bitten someone.

    Eventually, the bad guys ran off.

    We were tired. Starving. Emotionally wrecked.

    So I brought everyone back to our place. Mi casa es su casa, I told them. Which is Spanish for: “Susan’s going to freak out, but it’s fine.”

    And yeah… she froze in the doorway.

    So I did what any noble leader would do: I handed her our official ID cards.

    Now meet the team.

    🐾 Budd — Security Chief

    A K9 with nerves of steel and paws of thunder. His hobbies include tail surveillance and ABBA.

    🩵 Bulgogi — Head of Logistics

    Tiny horse. Big plans. Possibly dramatic. Once cried because of gravel.

    💚 Bibimbap — Admin Officer

    Baby green elephant. Runs everything. Also panics when the printer jams.

    🧡 Sashmi — Comms Manager

    Orange chihuahua. Talks faster than she thinks. Barks in Morse code.

    🐟 Meautang — Marine Relations/Sea Affairs

    Purple fish in a Hawaiian shirt. Vacation-ready, always suspicious.

    Favorite phrase: “It’s a trap.”

    Never proven right, but never wrong either.

    🐱 Fippo — Freelance Delegate (a.k.a. The Cat Who Won’t Leave)

    Wasn’t invited. Still came. Claims he’s here for “diplomacy.” Eats all the fish crackers.

    —

    Next summit topic: Climate Change.

    Susan’s probably going to ask if that’s a new salad dressing. But I love her anyway.

    Signed,

    Still Barking. Still Rising. Still Living with Susan.

    — Oishi, OG Founder of This Madness

  • The Life I Almost Lived (Without My Dog Therapist)

    “This one’s special. It’s about longing, dreams and the furball who made real life better than fantasy”

    Susan (narrating)

    “Boss, I need your signature here.”

    “Boss, what’s our marketing strategy for the judgmental side-eyeing Shih Tzu?”

    “Boss, the episode ‘Two Brains, One Dog, and Zero Life Plans’ is up by 213 percent — the viewers love it!”

    “Boss, what’s our agenda for today?”

    My office is on the top floor of Ventura Co. It’s big — clean, minimalist, beautiful. I can write in peace with no distractions. I’m the Marketing VP / Director / Editor of Ventura Co., and the creator of two hit shows: The Detective Agency and Tina & Pochi.

    Tina is a dramatic woman who eats her feelings. Pochi is her judgmental dog.

    My favorite’s the latter.

    There’s something about that story I keep coming back to. Something about him.

    Despite everything I have — the career, the success, the big apartment, the attractive face and body, even a handsome boyfriend — I go home every night and feel… empty. Incomplete. Like I’m living someone else’s life.

    But when I write about Tina and Pochi?

    I feel whole.

    Because Pochi loves Tina. He’s loyal. And somewhere deep down, I think I’m trying to write a life I missed.

    Tonight, I called my boyfriend.

    “Cinema?” I asked.

    “Busy,” he said, headset on, playing whatever with his friends.

    At least Pochi is always with Tina.

    And here I am again. Alone. Quiet.

    Empty.

    Oishi (narrating)

    I woke up and looked around. Two dogs were snoring beside me. My parents, apparently.

    I always forget their names.

    Ah, yes. Mustard and Ketchup.

    Mom and Dad.

    But there’s one name I keep forgetting — the one that matters.

    It starts with an “S.”

    Anyway, the usual: walk around the park, sniff some tails, hang out with my barksties.

    It’s… fine. Fun, I guess.

    But something’s off.

    I don’t like sniffing other dogs’ butts. There. I said it.

    And I love my parents, I really do…

    But I feel like I’m supposed to be somewhere else. With someone else.

    Sometimes I dream I’m wearing glasses.

    Sometimes I feel naked without a red scarf.

    Sometimes I wake up with the feeling of being scooped — carried, kissed, bathed (ugh).

    And there’s this hooman voice in my head — loud, weird, kinda goat-like when she sings.

    I miss her.

    Even if I’ve never met her.

    Yet.

    Somewhere in Their Dreams — A Prayer

    Susan (in dream narration):
    Lord, I am living a good life.
    Everything looks perfect.
    I’m at the top of my game.
    I have a job, a name, even a man…

    But I feel lonely. And empty.
    Can You send me someone who stays?
    Someone loyal. Soft.
    Who looks at me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him —
    and let me do the same?

    Oishi (in doggo prayer):
    God and Mighty Paw,
    Thank you for park and food and tail sniffs.

    But I miss someone.
    Someone who scooped me.
    Who put on my glasses and red scarf.
    Who sang weird songs and kissed my head.

    Can You send me my hooman?
    The loud one with a goat voice.
    I promise to love her forever —
    and maybe let her win tug-of-war… sometimes.

    Some prayers don’t need words. Only hearts that ache in the same direction.

    The Park – Collision Point

    I was lost in thought when I saw her.

    A woman. Beautiful. Hair tied up in a bun. Sitting on a park bench, crying.

    Something inside me sparked.

    I ran toward her.

    She looked at me like she knew me.

    She scooped me up, still crying — and I was crying too.

    She held me close.

    I rested my head on her shoulder.

    She wiped my tears, put glasses on me, tied her red scarf around my neck.

    And she whispered,

    “I got you, buddy.”

    Right then and there…

    I felt complete.

    Susan (narrating)

    I heard knocking.

    “Susan! It’s raining — your clothes are getting soaked! Get out of there!”

    It was Boyo.

    But I couldn’t move.

    I was still crying.

    And I swear… I heard Oishi crying too. A soft badoddle whimper from his bed.

    I sat up.

    We were both in tears.

    Oishi jumped onto the bed and wrapped his little paws around me.

    I held him tight.

    “I had a dream, Badoodle,” I whispered.

    “I was stunning. A literal commercial model. I had a big office, a big job, a boyfriend —”

    Hair flip. Hair flip.

    “—but you weren’t there.”

    And suddenly, my voice cracked.

    My smile faded.

    Tears again.

    “I don’t want that life, Oishi.

    I don’t care if I’m successful.

    I’d be happy for a while, sure —

    But not for long.

    Because you wouldn’t be in it.”

    I scooped him up again, kissed his furry head.

    “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

    Except for the boyfriend part.”

    Oishi side-eyed me.

    I laughed through my tears.

    “You’re loyal, and you’re stuck with me. Got that, Badoodle?”

    Back to Reality

    Boyo barged in, dripping wet, holding my clothes — and my undies.

    “BOYO!” I shrieked, throwing a pillow at his face.

    And then — chaos in the living room.

    Oishi.

    EATING MY DIPLOMA.

    “OISHIIIIII! NOT THE DIPLOMAAA!”

    I ran after him with a slipper.

    And there we were:

    Me yelling, Boyo confused and holding my underwear, Oishi running in circles with a piece of paper in his mouth. .

    And I knew.

    I didn’t need to be that boss lady from my dream to feel loved.

    I didn’t need a high-rise office or a high-heeled life.

    I already have it.

    Right here.

    In this loud, messy, slightly insane apartment.

    With my dog, my maybe-boyfriend, and my diploma in shreds.

    This is home.

    And I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

    I just need my dog. My story. My real, ridiculous life.

    ✨ End Scene. Roll credits. Cue goat-voiced rendition of “I Will Always Love You.”

    Still rising. 🐾 Still barking

  • The Day It Rained Anyway

    Narrated by Oishi

    It was Friday evening. Susan and I were in the Signal Co. pantry, watching the clock like it owed us money. She was in a rush — we had to get to the mall because she was finally buying new sneakers. Pricey ones. She kept telling herself (mostly out loud), “You only live once, and I’ve been absorbing customer tantrums like a sponge—I deserve this.”

    Fair enough.

    We got home, and she immediately unpacked the shoes like they were the Crown Jewels. She sniffed them — deeply. I don’t blame her. New shoe smell is dangerously satisfying. She said, “I’m wearing them tomorrow. And it better not rain.” Then she hugged them like a teddy bear and went to sleep.

    Saturday Morning.

    She woke up praying out loud:

    “Lord, please. Let it be sunny. These sneakers are white. Pristine. Expensive. Your daughter humbly begs—please don’t let it rain!”

    I couldn’t help but think: Sure, Sus. Let the plants wither and the rivers run dry so you can debut your kicks in peace.

    But just as we were getting dressed… BOOM. Thunder. Lightning. Then the rain came down like a telenovela twist.

    Susan flailed toward the window and cried out, “Whyyy, Lord?! WHYYY?”

    But then she paused. She saw the rainwater spilling into the pots, stray cats and dogs drinking, ducks waddling like it was a parade, and she said nothing for a moment.

    Narrated by Susan

    I sighed.

    “Thank you, Lord. You didn’t answer my prayer—and honestly, I wouldn’t have either. It was petty.”

    I imagined Oishi side-eyeing me: “God split the Red Sea, raised the dead, healed the blind, made the lame walk… and here you are asking Him to protect your sneakers from a drizzle.”

    And he’s right. Looking outside, I saw everything else thriving in the rain. I realized… the shoes can wait. The rain is helping others right now. And we can still go out when it stops. Or not. They’re just shoes. I can wash them. Or save up again.

    (I’m definitely going with Option A though: wait until the rain stops.)

    The rain didn’t stop.

    But it softened to a gentle drizzle, and Oishi and I stayed in, wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot cocoa. 🌧️☕

    It wasn’t the day we planned.

    But it was… peaceful.

    The kind of peace that doesn’t need perfect weather.

    Just gratitude. ☔👟💛

    Still Rising 🔥 Still Barking 🐾

  • 🕵️‍♀️ Case File: The Missing Maeutang — A Susan & Oishi Mystery

    Narrated by Oishi:

    Every night, you can hear Susan stomping around like an elephant in front of the television, yelling,
     “I knew it, Oishi Badoodle — it’s the neighbor!”

    Turns out she’s binge-watching Law & Order: SVU again. And now she thinks she’s Olivia Benson — with a notepad, glasses, and enough confidence to act like she’s actually on the precinct payroll.

    One sunny afternoon, Sus and I were walking in the park. I was excited — there was a carnival in the village, and I needed to see other faces besides Susan’s. Then we ran into Timmy, holding Mutang — you know, Maeutang, that weird-looking purple fish. He won second place during Bring Your Pet to Work Day. Second to me, of course.
     I am Sir Oishi Barkcelot. Champion. Shih Tzu. Icon.

    Narrated by Susan:

    One not-so-fine afternoon, Oishi Badoodle and I were walking through the neighborhood when we saw Timmy with his purple fish — Maeutang, I think? We waved hello, then headed to the carnival.

    Oishi and I had a blast. We rode the carousel, took selfies, laughed — life was good.

    But on our way home, Timmy ran after us, crying.
     Mutang was missing.

    Oishi and I gasped in sync.
     Sure, Mutang and I don’t talk, but he’s Oishi’s fish-friend, and that makes him family.

    I hugged Timmy and said, “No one — and I mean no one — takes our babies from us.”
     (Just to be clear, I was referring to Oishi and Mutang.)

    I asked if maybe Mutang just wandered off. Timmy looked confused and said, “He’s a fish.”
     I nodded. “And he’s purple. Anything is possible.”

    Detective Susan V. was officially on the case.

    We checked Timmy’s house. The aquarium was empty. I rushed home to change — blonde wig, glasses — the works. Oishi and I hid behind a plant for surveillance, though he seemed more annoyed by a random dog sniffing his butt than by the crime scene.

    We interrogated the fish market.
     No luck. Just smells.

    Timmy was spiraling, so we regrouped at home. I flipped open the murder board:

    • Fish vendor? (Smells… fishy.)
    • Postman? (Oishi barks at him daily. Suspicious.)
    • That one lady who sells snacks? (Hmmm…)

    Timmy sat on the couch, crying.
    “He’s all I’ve got, Susan. When I play music, he swims toward me like he’s dancing. He gets me. I don’t have many friends, but I had Maeutang.”

    I teared up. “I get it, Tim. I don’t know what I’d do if someone took my Oishi.”

    Then I got serious. Maybe all those Bible studies with Yohanes and Brenda were sinking in.
     I said, “You know what I do when life spirals? I pray. Tell Him everything. He listens.”

    Timmy wiped his eyes.
    “Lord, please help us find Maeutang. Show us where.”

    Right then, a Carnival van passed by the window.

    I scooped up Oishi — but not before I saw him quietly make a call. I swear he was on the phone.

    Oishi:

    Yes, I made a call. I rallied the squad.

    Sashmi the orange chihuahua.
    Bulgogi the blue horse.
    K-9 Unit from the guard post.


    And of course, me — emotionally exhausted but still majestic.

    At the carnival, we spotted a man in a ski mask holding Maeutang. Two other goons were snacking on popcorn and cotton candy like this was a movie premiere.

    Susan didn’t hesitate —
     She launched a throat punch while yelling “HIYAAAAA!”

    The ski mask man dropped Maeutang. Another goon lunged forward — but before he could reach the tank…

    Boyo came out of nowhere, punched the guy mid-air, and muttered,
     “Not on my watch.”

    Then K-9 sank his teeth into a third guy’s butt 

    Timmy grabbed the aquarium, tears streaming. Maeutang, also teary-eyed (don’t ask how), looked right at Timmy. Their love was real.

    Oishi (closing narration):

    We went home. Susan wouldn’t stop talking about how amazing she was.
    To be fair, she did find Maeutang . She did it for me. I love her for that.

    Then I heard it again from the couch —
     “I knew it! It’s always the neighbor!”

    Paw to face.
    Not again, Sus.

    Still rising 🔥 Still barking 🐾
    — A Susan & Oishi Mystery

  • Susan, Oishi, and the Wedding That Wasn’t Hers

    Narrated by Susan

    Yes, Oishi isn’t the only one who can narrate. Just so you know.

    It was an ordinary day at The Signal Co. — rainy outside, chaos inside. Obviously, me and Yohanes, along with the other emotionally unstable employees (excluding Brenda, the actual productive one), were pretending to work.

    I was in the pantry, holding a hot cup of coffee in one hand and a butternut donut in the other — a perfect pairing. I felt relaxed, even lucky. Sitting there with my BFFs, sipping coffee, savoring every bite of my donut… heaveeen.

    There’s something about the rainy season — the cold wind, the sound of raindrops tapping the windows, the blurry drizzle outside. Everything feels like a movie, and I am the main character.

    Yohanes was mid-bite in his cup noodles when Jezzie B and Dinah stormed in and announced:

    “Macchismo is getting married!”

    The woman, apparently, is gorgeous. Of course they were taunting me. They know I have a crush on him.

    I raised my eyebrow and said, “Old news. I know they’re engaged. But anything can happen. Macchismo might wake up one day and say, ‘You know what? I prefer a perfectly curvy woman with sass.’”

    Dinah deadpanned, “And who exactly would that be?”

    Me, obviously.

    Yohanes, bless his loyal heart, nodded and added, “Why not? Susan is huggable, playful… her temperament is to die for.”

    Okay, not gonna lie, I wasn’t sure if he was describing me or Oishi at this point. But I’ll take it.

    Then Dinah dropped the real bomb:

    “Too late. The wedding’s this Saturday.”

    Yohanes and I gasped — synchronized, like a drama duo. And for a brief moment, my internal mood soundtrack switched from comedy to serious.

    I know Macchismo never liked me that way. It’s just a crush. But what hits harder is the pattern — people keep getting engaged, getting married, finding someone… while I’m still out here being single. Sure, I have my family. I have Oishi. But they can’t fill that romantic void.

    At least Oishi loves me. Unconditionally. And sometimes, I swear, he’s judging me for it.

    I snapped back to reality.

    “Sus, are you okay?” Yohanes asked. Brenda looked worried.

    And I said — arms outstretched, full volume —

    “Whyyy am I alooooone? I shall climb to the rooftop and cry! No one will notice because it’s raining. My tears will mix with the raindrops!”

    Brenda muttered, “No one will notice because you’re not going to the rooftop.”

    Yohanes chimed in, “Also, it’s locked.”

    Then they both hugged me.

    Narrated by Oishi

    Saturday. Wedding Day.

    Susan wore a decent dress, which is her way of saying fabulous with unresolved feelings.

    Me? I wore a tuxedo. She bought it last week and cried while dressing me.

    She said, “You’re the only man who shows up for me.”

    I wagged, but internally, I sighed.

    At the church, tan-tan-tanan… tan-tan-tanan, the wedding march played. The bride walked down the aisle, and for some reason, there was no bitterness in Susan’s eyes.

    She was either admiring the bride’s glow… or imagining it was her walking down the aisle.

    Macchismo stood tall, handsome as ever. Pete, the Signal Co. accountant (backstory for another day), was his best man.

    The priest began, “Love is patient. Love is kind…”

    And Susan whispered, “No it’s not.”

    I looked at her.

    She grinned. “Kidding…”

    Then came the classic line:

    “You may kiss the bride.”

    That’s when Boyo — also invited, because apparently he plays basketball with Macchismo every Sunday — leaned over to her and said:

    “Don’t worry, Sus. Your day will come. And I’m sure that man will say vows so sincere and heartfelt, you won’t believe you ever cried over anyone else.”

    And Susan, in true Susan fashion, tossed her hair and replied,

    “Of course he will. I mean… look at me.”

    Paw on forehead. Classic Sus.

    At the reception, she performed Anne Murray’s You Needed Me with her signature goat voice. I danced. I ate. The chicken? 10/10.

    I love weddings. Excellent buffet. Zero responsibility.

    We went home exhausted.

    Susan hugged me in bed and whispered,

    “God… when will it be my turn?”

    Then she fell asleep and snored in my ear, and the moment was gone.

    But I heard her. And I think God did too.

    Still Rising. Still Barking