Good Dog

My mom has this little gorgeous Pekinese called ChiChi. Because of his incredible Character, ChiChi also starred in my first book. He is very different from a typical Pekinese – he is lively, communicative, happy. I call him Denise the Menace and now, he is almost 4 years old. Summers on the island with ChiChi were always adventurous – the moment we turned around, he disappeared. His favourite pastimes were boarding the ferry (he adores boats), swimming or chasing cats. So mom and I would spend summers bicycling around the island, screaming his name. But this summer something happened. Either ChiChi grew older or his ass got kicked by a dog or a dog-hater. Whatever it is, ChiChi suddenly became a “good dog”: he is always next to us, he follows us, he listens to orders, he doesn’t want to play for hours. He is even not jumping on us as he used to. Mom and I are totally delighted with this new dog and every now and then, we conclude in astonishment “God, ChiChi is so good this year!” hug him and tell him how good he is. Or we would tell our friends and ChiChi’s admirers (yes, he has some) how he changed into a “good dog”.

But few days ago, I realised this is pathetic. I told my mom that it is sad that the dog lost the energy either because he grew older or got scared because someone kicked his ass and we became – delighted. It reminded me of my experience in the corporate world: I started out fearless, independent, curious and two years later, all the shit I went through, from mobbing to sexual harassment made me calmer, more cautious, reserved. More – depressed. And suddenly, the company LOVED me.


I miss the old ChiChi. I miss the days he was disappearing, was wild, happy and energetic. But I am afraid he will never be the same. He is a “good dog” now.

And me, I am out of the corporate world for one year now and am only slowly starting to get the “good Ana” out of myself. And I wonder if I will ever be the same.