Guided by light, driven by dreams, and ready to fly.

Tag: Pets

  • 🐾 Hold my leash: This Dog Ain’t It

    Narrated by Susan

    It was a rainy Saturday morning and I went to the market alone. I left Oishi at home because he doesn’t like muddy paws (he thinks he’s royal — like Prince of Pawtanamo or something).

    Salary was still 15 days away, so Wagyu beef was clearly out of reach. I settled for galunggong (that’s a fish — yes, that’s its real name), plus a few essentials, including Oishi’s food. Not that he’d eat it. According to him, it “smells fishy.” (Which it is. Because it’s fish.)

    While walking with my umbrella, I paused to count my change — only to realize the vendor shorted me a peso. And listen, with the way my finances are set up, one peso matters. So I turned back, gathered all my courage, and told the vendor, “Miss, I think your change is short by a peso. I’ll give it to the beggar.”

    (Not true. Honestly, that beggar probably has more cash than me today.)

    The vendor handed me the peso with a judgmental face. She didn’t believe my excuse. Whatever. I walked off, wind howling, and boom — my umbrella flipped, slid from my hand, and flew off like it was trying to immigrate.

    As I chased after it, I spotted a stray dog. Big guy. Soaked and shivering. My heart melted.

    He reminded me of Oishi — the day I found him years ago. I still had Oishi’s leash in my bag, so I clipped it on. We walked home together. (He looked too big for public transport anyway.)

    At home, I dried him off, gave him food and water, and snuck him into the dog house I had made for Oishi — which Oishi never uses because, apparently, he thinks he owns the house. I didn’t want him to see the new dog just yet. Oishi would absolutely overreact.

    So for now, the new doggo had food, water, shelter, and peace. For about 24 hours.

    Narrated by Oishi

    I have noticed some changes.

    My food bowl? Always half full.

    My requests for snacks? Denied.

    Susan’s excuse? “Drink some water.”

    Excuse me?

    Either she’s broke again (probably bought another useless siopao maker), or she’s putting me on a diet. Either way, unacceptable.

    Also — she’s been acting sus. Always sneaking off to the backyard. Last time, she carried a Tupperware that smelled like my food. I barked. I confronted her.

    She denied it. In. My. Face.

    This morning, I saw her doing the “spy look.” You know — scanning the room like someone about to commit a crime. She tiptoed to the backyard. She left the door ajar.

    So I waited.

    I tippawed.

    I entered.

    And what I saw…

    A massive brown dog.

    Cuddling MY Susan.

    Licking her face.

    SHE WAS LAUGHING.

    And guess what was in the Tupperware?

    My. Food.

    I snapped. I barked from the depths of my soul. I charged like a knight from Barkthurian legend. That giant mutt had to go.

    And he did. He ran. Victory bark achieved.

    Susan again (irritated, obviously)

    First of all, the big brown doggo was minding his business. He slept in the dog house. I checked on him daily. Gave him Oishi’s food. (Don’t tell that little shih tzu — he’s overweight anyway. I’ll make it up to him on payday.)

    One morning, I thought Oishi was asleep. I tiptoed to the backyard with food and water.

    Oishi caught me.

    I denied it.

    Again.

    (Yes, I’m a terrible liar.)

    I hurried outside, sat with brown doggo, cuddled him, and even started thinking of names.

    And then… I heard war drums.

    Oishi came running — full sprint.

    He barked like the ghost of his ancestors sent him.

    Brown doggo panicked and bolted.

    And Oishi? He gave me this smug look like,

    “See Sus? I protected you.”

    I snapped.

    “GET INSIDE! I’ve HAD IT with you!”

    Then I blurted it out.

    “I found him the same way I found YOU. Soaked. Abandoned. I let you in. I fed you. Don’t forget that!”

    And just like that… Oishi started crying.

    Oishi (sobbing softly)

    She’s right.

    I was jealous.

    I’m sorry.

    I licked her face and whispered, “I’m sorry, Sus.”

    She scooped me up, her eyes teary.

    “You’ll always be my one and only badoodle. But I had to help him too. We’re just tight on money now.”

    I hugged her tighter. And then I jumped down and grabbed my leash.

    My way of saying:

    “Let’s go find him.”

    We searched the park.

    The market.

    Even the precinct.

    No doggo.

    Finally, we heard a noise from the other side of the backyard — where the trash cans are. The place where I once cried, thinking Susan abandoned me.

    And there he was.

    Big. Brown. Puppy-eyed.

    Waiting.

    Boyo came by to visit and saw the dog. His eyes lit up.

    “I always wanted a dog,” he said, petting the mutt. The dog clearly liked him too.

    Before anyone could get sentimental, Susan interrupted:

    “I know his name. Let’s call him Chocolat — duh, look at his color.”

    We laughed.

    I felt lighter.

    I think I’ll recruit Chocolat to Barkimony Summit.

    Every hero needs a sidekick.

    And I’m ready to share the food.

    (…sometimes.)

    Still Rising. Still Barking. 🐾

  • 🐾 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