Happy Homecoming? (Johanna – Mia)
After five months of being away from home, grueling assessments and my (admittedly laughable though semi-successful) attempts to not procrastinate, I am finally HOME!
You know how the old adage goes. There is no place like home. And that’s very true, I realize that now. Yes, my first semester in Melbourne was lovely overall (minus the exams but let’s not talk about that), but still, home is where the heart is. It’s indescribable, the joy I felt at seeing my family after days of just Skyping, and with poor internet connectivity at that. I used to hate how hot it was over here, but now, it just reminds me that I’m home. Everything does, actually. The smells, the sounds, even the smell of the fabric softener my mother uses – it’s how I would describe home.
So, yeah, as you can pretty much tell, I am very happy to be home. (How many times have I said the word “home” since this post started?!?) My friends who are reading this would probably be wondering why I haven’t mentioned my beloved little fur ball of fluffiness and joy – my little puppy. She was all I could talk about the week before I was due to fly back – how happy I am that I would be seeing her, petting her, playing with her and all around spoiling her again. But alas, my homecoming with her was not a happy one. At first, it seemed that all was as it had been. She saw me enter the front door (do you have any idea how good that feels after five months of not seeing said door?) and her tail started wagging like crazy. Then as I approached, she stood up on her hind legs and started reaching for me, barking like mad as she always did. That was that. I played with her, ran around the house with her (well, chased after her, was more like), and all that jazz.
Okay, before I delve much deeper into the story, let me just give you a Mia’s Puppy: 101. The first thing you have to know about her is that she is very spoiled. A princess. Yeah, yeah, that’s my fault, but hey, I’m a dog lover! So anyway, she developed this very bad habit of refusing to eat unless I hand-fed her, or dropped pieces of dog biscuit from her bowl directly in front of her face. Weird, I know. But I kinda find it endearing. And let’s not even talk about her magpie abilities! All I have to do is sit on the couch munching on a treat or the other, and the next thing I know, she’d jump up into my lap and steal my food! Seriously. I’m pathetic when it comes to the whole “disciplining your dog” thing, so I always let her get away with it. Unless she stole something like chocolate, in which case, I would obviously have to get it back from her. This is probably the only type of exercise I have ever done in any consistency whatsoever – chasing my dog all around the living room (and even under the furniture!) She’s still a very good dog, though, and would passively open her mouth to let me get that piece of dog-poison out without so much as twitching after I caught up to her. And I was always very proud of that, and my interpretation of it meaning that she trusted me enough to let me come near her food and even get it from inside her mouth!
I’ve probably repeated every single point twice throughout this post, but I have an excuse! I stayed up watching (and fangirling over) Les Mis on HBO well into the morning so my brain is kinda dead right now. Anyway, you can probably see where I am heading with this, and you would be right. A while ago, my precious little baby actually growled at me! Growled. Not once, but thrice! She has never, ever, done that before! Plus, I was just standing beside her as she ate! I shudder to think about what she would have done had I actually went anywhere near her mouth or touched her food like I used to do (with perfect immunity) before. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!
So yes, I am very, very hurt right now. I try to listen to the inner scientist in me (ha! Scientist. Let’s just go with that) and pass it off as animal instinct, but it still hurts. So, moral of the story: if you’re going overseas, take your pet with you! No? Okay, then. In that case, nothing good can be gleaned from this. I’ll just go cry now. Or sleep. Or maybe fan-girl over more Les Mis to distract me from this. Who else actually pities Javert? Cause I do.
I’ll be fine, though. Just hope things start looking up in the morning.
Night, folks!