My dog

I also have a dog. She doesn't live with me and my cat though; she lives with my girlfriend instead.

Sophie, the dog (or actually, the bitch), loves me. She makes this very clear from the way she hyperventilates while wagging her tail furiously every time I drop by. She also barks at me, jumps on me (and my nuts), bites my hand when I stroke her, and tries to rip my skin off with her nails when I am doing absolutely nothing to her. She also does the occasional lunging for my throat when I'm cutting her nails. But she loves me. I think.

She also loves my socks. If you can't find her around the house, then you can bet a leg that she's under the bed chewing on my socks. Many a times I had to go home wearing a saliva-soaked sock.

One of her favorite hobbies is eating poop. That's why it is giving me pause to note that another of her favorite past-time is licking our hands. The second-worst possible scenario is hearing Mel's parents shout from the living room, "Aiyoh, she just ate poop again!" when she is licking your hand. The worst scenario would be hearing that when she's licking your face. I think I should be thankful that I've only ever encountered the second-worst scenario before.

Sophie has a nice English name--rather befitting of a dog that belongs to two Philosophy majors. Mel gave it to her. She also has a Chinese name, which I gave her--Er Wei. I think it sounds very sophisticated, and gentle and everything nice. And since her surname is Goh, taking Mel's surname, we use her full name very frequently. Especially when she is trying to clamber onto us, or trying to burrow herself into our armpits.

Cats

I have two cats in my home, one black one white. The white one belongs to me, while the black one doesn't. The black one, called New New, belongs to my dad. And it is peeing in my cat's litter tray, instead of her own, as I am typing this.

The reason why New New belongs to my dad is because he was the one who picked her up from the streets, even after much protests from the family and Edward, which is my white cat. My dad insisted, and he insisted he wants a cat to himself, so now New new is here to stay. My way to deal with the problem is to make it absolutely clear that I would not clean up after his cat, and let him know that rearing a cat is not a simple walk in the park. New new peeing in my cat's litter tray threw a wrench in my perfect plan.

I have no idea why, but animals seem to like me--maybe because of some scent I have, or maybe I'm just very good at playing with them. The black cat spends almost all her time in my room when I'm home. This is not without its benefits. My white boy, the rebellious teenager, spends almost all his time keeping an eye on her. New new being in my room means that he is spending more time in his room (which is my room) too.

New new is still in the kitten phase--which means she is very playful, and she doesn't mind human contact. Edward is long past the stage, and he is unusually fastidious, even for a cat. He would endure you stroking him for all of 5 seconds, then he would grumble very loudly and stalk off. He wasn't like that when he was still a baby.

I think I am experiencing fatherhood way before I have kids.