Chocolat the Magic Puppy

One of my best "friends" in Taiwan isn't a person. She's a dog. Her name is Chocolat, and she is still a puppy.

She is my friend Alexis's dog. Every time she see's me, she jumps on me and we start to play. I do the same thing with kids, and their parents sometime say, "Hey, Ron, don't get them too wild--they've got to go to bed soon." But I don't think Alexis minds. Chocolat is a dog, already wild.

Dogs, like children, don't have time for bullshit, and they pay attention to signs of real life. Kids, when they walk by a few musicians on the street, are transfixed. Stories contain life, and when you start telling a little one a story, you'll see their eyes open wide and their imaginations move into fifth gear.

The other day, Alexis was in a bad mood and was a little mean to his dog. So, Chocolat walked into the living room, looked Alexis in the eyes and started peeing on the floor.

Alexis later told me he wasn't upset with his dog, because he realized that it was his fault for being mean to her.

I hope I can be as alive as Chocolat (expect for the peeing part).