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Tag: Oishi the Shi Tzu

  • Susan & Oishi: Ep. 5 We Are Not Ready: A Paranormal Sitcom

    Narrator: Susan, Frightened to the Max

    It was just an ordinary day — raining outside, chips in hand, cuddling on the couch with Oishi.
    We were watching our favorite show: The Detective Agency, starring Sera, Rhys, and Nova (you remember them from Episode 4: Oishi’s Nightmare).

    It was all fun and fiction until —
    BOOM.
    A car exploded on screen right as thunder cracked outside.

    Then came another boom — lightning struck the electric post.
    And just like that, the power went out.
    The house went dark.
    The neighborhood? A blackout.

    Narrator: Oishi, Scared to Death

    I was about to suggest we get the flashlight when we heard it —
    Footsteps. Wind howling. A loud “awooooooo.”
    Like a ghost-wolf who forgot to mind his volume.

    Susan clutched me like a stuffed toy, and I — a brave, diaper-wearing Shi Tzu — called upon the Mighty Paw.
    Susan, on the other hand, went full Pentecostal.
    “In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I rebuke you!”

    Whoa.
    Sus? You believe in the Big Guy?
    You don’t even read the Bible. You read “How to Get Slim Without Exercising” and air fryer recipes.

    And… “Listen, I was so scared I didn’t even notice Susan changed outfits. One minute she’s in orange, next she’s in green — either we’re haunted or she packed for the apocalypse.”

    Suddenly, the Mighty Paw appeared — calm, glowing, mildly judgmental.
    Tears welled up in my eyes.
    “Mighty Paw! Use your powers! Make the ghosties disappear!”

    He shook his noble head.
    “Oh, you silly Little PhilosoFurr. I don’t have that kind of power. But I know someone who does.
    He’s the One who can calm bad spirits — and even Susan’s tantrums.
    You can tell Him anything — even how much you love chimken.”

    My tail twitched.
    “Please just tell me who! I’m scared! My soul is shaking and my diaper is full!”

    Before he answered, a bright light filled the room.

    Narrator: Oishi, Humbled & Slightly Wet

    He wore white.
    He raised His hand.
    He smiled at me — gently, warmly — and said:

    “Hi Oishi.
    I’m Jesus.”

    I was in awe.
    He looked so peaceful… unlike me and Susan, who were still running around like squirrels on espresso.
    But I noticed something:
    He had a hole in His hand.
    And yet — He smiled.

    Then, without a single word, the ghosts — human and paw — saw Him and immediately vanished.

    Susan fell to her knees, sobbing.
    I think she howled. Like… elephant-style.
    “THANK YOU, JESUS!!”

    And me?
    No, I didn’t hug Him right away.

    I peed first.
    Then I hugged Him.

    He whispered:

    “I love you, Oishi.
    I love Susan.
    And I will always protect you.”

    And I believed Him.
    Because no matter how brave I try to be —
    Susan’s kind of a lot.
    (And if you haven’t noticed, she’s… large.)

    PS. She really committed to that praise pose like she was trying to send a signal to heaven and win an Oscar. 🙄
    I didn’t say anything… but in my mind? “Not this again, Susan.”

  • Susan & Oishi Ep. 2: Oishi’s Birthday (Bark) Bash!

    Happy Bark Day to Me!

    My hooman Sus officially filed for “mental health leave” to prepare for my birthday. (Don’t tell her I ratted her out, but let’s be real — I am the mental health issue. You’re welcome.)

    We hit the supermarket first. And by “hit,” I mean I was chilling in the cart like royalty, surrounded by groceries — fruits, cereals, milk, and most importantly, chimken. It felt like I was floating through heaven with the Mighty Paw and the Pawtriarch Angels of Barking Light blessing my snout. Divine.

    Back home, Sus started cooking like she was hosting the Barklorette finale. Chimken. Porky. Beef steak tenderloin. Mashed potatoes. I was drooling so hard my tail created its own wind pattern. And the cake? I wanted to dive in face-first. This smart, handsome, totally humble pup was ready for a FEAST.

    And then… doom arrived.

    The doorbell rang. My heartbeat spiked. I was sweating. Shaking. Existential dread. Sus opened the door and there they were — strangers. Loud ones. Touchy ones. Hoomans. Everywhere.

    My brain tried to calm me down: “Oishi, they don’t bite.”
    My inner savage replied: “Yeah, but I do.” 😎

    Guests started eating. I was silently beefing with Steve, who wouldn’t stop taking my chimken. Bro, eat a banana and leave me the meat of heaven! Brenda? Oh, Brenda kept rubbing my ear and giving me belly rubs. I hated it. Then… I didn’t. It tickled. It was weirdly pleasant. (This is a safe space, right?)

    And then came the singing. 🎂

    Everyone gathered around me like I was some kind of plush deity. As a stoic pup, this level of attention is not my thing. So naturally, I coped the only way I knew how:

    🪄 “In the name of Mighty Paw, Sir Barkelot the Eternal, and the Pawtriarch Angels of Barking Light… Disappear, party hoomans — except my loving unstable hooman. WOOOSH!”

    Yeah, I imagined that. I regret nothing.

    But despite the commotion, I had the best barkday. My Super Sus went above and beyond. And that means something — even to a licensed Pawtherapist.

    🎓 Oishi’s Barkday Wisdom (you knew this was coming):

    1. Loosen up, hooman. If you stay stiff and serious, you’ll miss the fun. I hated the party. Then I belly-laughed during the belly rub. Coincidence? Nope.
    2. Appreciate the real MVPs. I was so busy side-eyeing guests, I almost forgot the mountain of love Sus put into this day. She faked a mental health breakdown. For me.
    3. Be present. Don’t be like Yohanes glued to his phone. Or Pete from accounting organizing receipts and trauma-dumping tax advice on Sus. Be like Brenda. She lived in the moment. Ate well. Rubbed bellies. A queen.

    “By the end of the night, it was just me and Sus again.

    She was watching a crime doc, breathing like she’s on the case herself.

    I wanted to say, ‘Sus… breathe. You’re not on payroll.’

    But hey—she threw me a memorable barkday.

    So I curled up beside her, accepted the weird show,

    and whispered in my mind:

    ‘It’s the neighbor. It’s always the neighbor.’”

    So here’s my official prayer for you:

    Dear Mighty Paw, bless this hooman with a softer heart, looser spine, and better pawmate appreciation. No to defeatism. Yes to optimism.

    🐾 Mic drop.

    Oishi out.

  • Susan & Oishi Ep. 1 “I Got You, Buddy” Where It All Started

    A Rescue with Bark (and a Lot of Drama)

    Narrator: Oishi (Yes, I’m a dog. Try to keep up.)

    Once upon a mildly humid afternoon, a male dog named Ketchup and a lady dog named Mustard locked eyes at the park.

    Boom. Romance. Scandal. Questionable leash etiquette.
    And nine weeks later, me: a squishy, judgmental little pup with excellent hair and no inheritance.

    From the moment I opened my eyes, I was filled with wonder. Big world. Big feelings. So naturally… I got lost. Because of course I did. Born with curiosity, not GPS.

    I wandered. Sniffed some trash. Contemplated the void. Then, tired and slightly dramatic, I collapsed under a tree, waiting for fate. Or snacks.

    Enter: Susan.
    A human. Hair flying, eyes wide, full rescue-mode activated. She scooped me up like I was a clearance item at an emotional Black Friday sale.
    She whispered, “I got you, buddy.”

    Cue slow-motion. Wind. Music. Oscar-worthy emotional zoom.
    In that moment, I made a vow:

    • I will stay by her side.
    • I will protect her.
    • I will ignore most humans unless they have beef jerky.

    Life was good. Susan worked. Came home. Pet me like I was therapy wrapped in fur. On weekends, we hit the park. Simple. Wholesome. No drama.

    Until… drama.
    She went from “I got you, buddy,”
    to “Why is this happening to me, Oishi?”

    Former queen. Now a stressed-out goblin powered by caffeine and online shopping.

    Every night, she’d hold me like I was an emotional stuffed toy and mumble about:

    • how work drained her,
    • how the pizza guy was late,
    • and how our neighbor keeps blasting “Bed of Roses” like they’re were trying to summon 1992.

    I stared at her like, “Susan… are you okay? Do I need to stage an intervention or just knock over a wine glass dramatically?”

    I’m a Shih Tzu. I don’t know much about existential dread, but I do know when someone’s spiraling into a mid-level life crisis while holding a dog like a support burrito.

    Narrator: Susan (The Melodramatic Hooman)

    It was raining. I was overworked, overcaffeinated, and probably emotionally bankrupt.

    Then I saw him—tiny, soaked, pathetic in a cinematic kind of way.
    I pulled over. Ran to him. Scooped him up. Whispered:
    “I got you, buddy.”

    And that was it.
    We didn’t know it then, but maybe that moment was heaven-sent.


    Me — drenched in burnout. Him — lost, tired, and hopeful.
    We found each other.


    And somehow, we both knew…
    “God must’ve been listening.”
    Because He didn’t just give us a rescue story.
    He gave us a companion.

    Oishi became my emotional WiFi.
    He doesn’t speak, but I swear he judges with love.

    Sometimes, I imagine him saying things like:

    • “Susan… the pizza guy isn’t a villain. He’s just late. Like your rent.”
    • “Yes, life is hard, but maybe don’t buy three pairs of shoes during a panic spiral?”
    • “Maybe your coworker wasn’t rude. Maybe… you were just hungry.”

    Oishi doesn’t stress. Doesn’t overthink.
    He naps like it’s a paid job.
    He exists like every day is just another opportunity to sit in a sunbeam and ignore everyone.

    So now, I’m trying.
    To slow down.
    To be present.
    To learn from my emotionally distant dog guru.

    Because sometimes, the best life coach is a furball with great hair and zero emotional baggage.

    Still rising 🔥 Still barking 🐾