What do you regret?
Narrator: Oishi (This time, I volunteered.)
Five years ago, Susan found me crying under a tree in the rain. Soaked, shivering, abandoned. She ran to me and picked me anyway.
(If you want the full origin story, go read “I Got You, Buddy.”)
A few months later, Boyo moved in next door.
The first time I saw him, we were playing fetch in the hallway. I noticed him right away. He always smiled. His eyes were gentle. He looked… cuddly. Like Susan, but with better manners.
But there was something about him that drew me in.
(Aside from the smell of treats, of course.)
The Incident.
One Saturday at 7 a.m., Boyo was blasting “Bed of Roses.”
Susan was still asleep. Keyword: was.
She shot up like a banshee, stomped out of bed like an angry elephant, her hair a war zone, her face like a constipated chimpanzee. Still in pajamas. Still half-dreaming of revenge.
She scooped me up (I protested, silently—I knew what was coming).
She banged on Boyo’s door.
He opened it.
And for a split second, I swear I saw fear in his soul.
Susan unleashed.
“Do you know what time it is?! Do you think you’re alone in the world? That we’re all paranormal beings who can’t hear Bon Jovi at full volume?! I just fell asleep—LAST NIGHT!”
She didn’t even breathe. Her mouth went full machine gun.
Boyo? Speechless.
Susan? Exited dramatically before he could say a word.
Then she ranted for five. straight. hours.
My ears weren’t hurting from the music. They were hurting from Susan.
Mall Day, Siopao Drama, and Puppy PTSD
Later, we went to the mall.
We roamed. Ate siopao. She put me in one of those baby ride thingies. I felt like a prince. I loved it.
Until she ditched me at the pet lounge.
She wanted to watch a movie.
She didn’t say the title, but judging from the timing, I’m guessing:
“Food Factory: How Siopao Is Made.”
Earlier that day, while we were eating, I noticed Boyo watching her mid-bite.
Mid siopao bite.
And I swear—I saw his heart leap out of his chest.
I thought to myself, “Gross.”
That siopao bite must’ve triggered something, because Boyo suddenly remembered.
Turns out, they had met before — well, sort of.
During a neighborhood outing months ago, Boyo had seen Susan and me from a distance, sitting quietly by the beach. We were both staring out at the mountain and sea like it was a private moment with God.
Susan, in that rare peaceful form of hers, whispered, “Look at this view… what a Creator.”
Her face looked… angelic.
Very unlike the siopao-crushing, sarcastic hurricane that just yelled at him in her pajamas.
Back then, Boyo was quietly eating barbecue alone, watching us — Susan with her awe, me with my glassy deadpan — and thinking, Maybe this world still has soft places.
Who falls in love with Susan while she’s inhaling carbs?
Chaos at the Pet Lounge
Back at the lounge, I was surrounded by untrained puppies.
Running. Sniffing. Chaos.
One of them sniffed my butt for the third time and that was it.
I barked like it was the end of the world.
Luckily, Boyo was still at the mall. He heard me.
He came in, checked me out, and left a note at the counter.
“Hey Siopao Girl,
Got your dog. He looked restless.
We’re at my apartment. — B.”
Bark, Regret, and Bed of Roses (again)
At his place, we chilled.
He cooked chicken. We ate. We watched TV.
Then we heard stomping in the hallway and shouting:
“BOYOOOO! Where is my badoodle?!
Give him back to meee!!”
(She climbed eight floors. The elevator was down. Respect.)
Boyo opened the door.
“I’m so—”
But Susan stopped him mid-apology by pressing a finger to his lips.
Then launched into a rant that barely related to the situation.
Boyo calmly gave her a chair.
Made coffee.
Listened. Patiently.
Then she randomly mentioned “regret.”
And Boyo’s eyes shifted.
He smiled and asked her, in his usual calm tone:
“What do you regret?”
Susan, being Susan, said:
“I regret buying that choco mocha lipstick. It looks like dried blood.”
Boyo tried again.
“Something deeper.”
She thought. Then said:
“I regret not buying the last piece of siopao. I should’ve bought it. Now I have to cook.”
I put my paw on my head.
Classic Susan.
She got up, mid-convo, and left to cook.
She was that comfortable around Boyo… she left me with him.
The Regrets Boyo Witnessed and the faith he chose instead.
Once she was gone, Boyo scooped me up.
Sat me on his lap.
And spoke softly.
“I used to be a nurse overseas,” he said.
“I watched people die with so many regrets.”
He went quiet for a moment.
“I wasn’t part of the frontlines. I was the guy waiting in triage. Prepping shots. Changing dressings. I remember November 12, 2015 — the day the relief convoy never came back. We were waiting. The kids were waiting. But all we got was silence… and smoke rising from the ridge.”
Then continued:
“They regretted not telling people they loved them.
Not giving enough time.
Not living fully.
Not putting God first.
Not choosing joy over fear.
Not choosing people over things.”
I listened. And for once… I had no sarcastic comment.
Boyo added:
“In this lifetime, regret is inevitable — it’s not about avoiding it, but about choosing not to repeat it.”
“Since then, I promised myself I’d live differently.
Smile more.
Be kind.
Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s Susan.”
And then, he laughed.
“I’ll still play Bed of Roses.
But I’ll be more mindful.
I’ll live with faith. Not fear.”
Dinner with the Ones Who Stayed
Susan came back.
She brought chicken.
Boyo brought soup and dessert.
She ranted about the movie.
He smiled.
I napped.
And for a few hours, there was no fear. No regrets.
Just us.
Just joy.
Just home.
Writer’s Note (by Ember — Slightly Overcooked, Still Simmering)
Hi, it’s me — Ember.
The person behind Susan’s spirals and Oishi’s deadpan commentary.
This episode? It’s personal.
Not because I’m a nurse, a doctor, or someone with a front-row seat to life-and-death situations…
but because I’ve had my share of regret.
I’ve lost people I loved — and I didn’t always get to show that love the way I wanted to.
And honestly? I still live like I have all the time in the world.
Like the clock’s not ticking.
Like there’s a memo somewhere that says I’ll live to 110.
But there isn’t.
And that thought hit me while writing this episode.
So lately, like Boyo, I’ve been trying to really live.
To make decisions based on faith, not fear.
To be kind, even when I’m surrounded by difficult people and exhausting situations — which, to be clear, is very hard and occasionally makes me want to scream into a pillow.
But I’m trying.
If you’re reading this, maybe you’re trying too.
Trying to be softer, braver, more present.
Trying to say what matters before it’s too late.
Let’s live better.
While we still have time.
Still rising, still barking.
— Ember & Oishi 🔥🐾
Ember - Fire and Soul 