So Oscar is being really weird lately. He’s been skulking around the house and hiding under the bed and glaring at you when you go to pet him. Between that, the screamo music and dark clothing he’s been wearing, Marta and I have begun to think of him as our moody teenage son. Sometimes he joins us on the couch when we watch TV but he won’t look at us and likes to pretend that he doesn’t even care about people food, which he used to beg for so desperately. I’m really trying to be understanding but every now and then I say something mocking like “Oh- the little prince has decided to join us this evening- to what do we owe THIS pleasure?” To which he rolls his eyes and seems to say “no one gets me.”
He usually sits on top of the toilet and watches me put on make-up in the morning. He’s still been doing that, but now he has this ironic look on his smug little face and when I smile at him in the mirror he mutters things like “… you are so generic.”
I’m really at a loss. The angst in the apartment is almost tangible. We’re hoping that the removal of his manhood will make him chill out a little. Speaking of which, Marta is not allowed to make any decisions about that independently. Do you know what she asked me the other day? “Do you think we could just find someone who we can just pay under the table to come over here and do it?” Yeah. No.
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