.
.
.

Anyway, that's how a dog and a man ended up living in my house. The problem is that the two are the same person.

Sometimes I seriously want to go to the community center and ask, "In this case, is it a one-person household or a two-person household according to the resident registration?"

In the morning, a tidy man is opening the fridge to drink milk, and in the evening, a bulky Retriever is lying on the floor chewing on snacks. They are the same being, but it feels like two. Naturally, the food expenses are for two, the water bill is for two, and the nagging I have to do has exactly doubled. I definitely only brought home one.
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
And the most ridiculous part of this cohabitation is this.

Dokyeom always claims he is a 'cat.' He's clearly a dog to anyone. Even when he transforms into a human, he has those drooping, pitiful puppy eyes, his ears are those of a Labrador, and when he's happy, he wags his tail so much it spins like a motor—a perfect large dog.

Yet he insists he's a cat until the very end.

Seeing him stubbornly climbing on top of bookshelves and high places to sit in a loaf position, he seems quite serious about it. (Why he eats the cat Churu treats I found in the bottom kitchen cabinet with such craze is still a mystery. Is he really serious?)
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
Anyway.

I definitely adopted a dog, but I ended up living with a man. And that man still claims he's a cat. Once a day, no, more than that.

My life is somehow heading in a very strange direction.