After Breaking Up with a Celebrity, I Stole My Dog ​​Back

Without the smell of my little dog, I would go mad!

At that moment, a detailed dog-napping plan formed in my mind. I was desperate. I admit I couldn't bear not having my dog around. Could the world even spin without a little dog? Could it really function without one? I would go insane without my little dog!

I immediately requested a month off from work. I timed it perfectly with Michael’s work schedule. I donned my catfish mask, changed into a black bodysuit, and packed a large bag to go steal my dog back.

But that goddamn Michael had changed the locks on his door. I couldn’t get in. So, I resorted to lurking outside his door, waiting for a chance to steal my Naughty back. Thankfully, the units in Michael’s complex were single occupancy per floor, so I never ran into anyone else.

Many times, I could only cling to the unbudging door, calling out, “Naughty! It’s Mommy! Mommy is here to see you!” Naughty recognized my voice and whimpered. I could hear him scratching at the door in excitement. A catfish and a dog were separated by a door, unable to meet. I cried silently, swearing eternal enmity against Michael!

I agonized for a long time before texting Michael. “I won’t take anything from you after our breakup, but can I have Naughty back?” 

Michael replied instantly. “Not a chance. Unless... you’re willing to get back together with me.”

Guys, sometimes I felt utterly helpless. I didn’t respond to Michael. Instead, I vented on Twitter using my alternate account, “Goodbye, will we meet again, doggy? When we meet again, be happy, okay? Doggy, you have to be happy. You have to be happy, okay?

“Your world won’t have me in it anymore. It’s okay; be happy. Doggy, my doggy, how will I live without you? Doggy, take me with you, doggy!”

After my rant, I felt a surge of clarity and resolve. 

For the twelfth time, I put on my catfish mask like a warrior donning armor. I gained newfound courage. 

I approached Michael’s door once more. 

As I sat outside, talking to my dog, I felt something hard under the doormat. 

OMG, I found a key! 

I inserted the key, turned it, and the door opened.

Rushing in, I finally saw my long-missed Naughty. Despite my mask, Naughty recognized me and excitedly pawed at my leg. 

The pain was sharp; my leg felt like it was on fire. 

This little guy’s strength was still immense, like a bull. 

Though barely able to stand still, I felt a surge of emotion from this familiar force.

Naughty was still so robust!

Struggling against Naughty’s strong pushes, I tried to lift him and run. But I was shocked by his weight. 

“Naughty? How did you get so heavy?”

My eyes widened. 

“Of course, he’s heavy,” came a deep, resentful voice from the living room. 

“You have no idea how many cans he’s eaten this month.”

I looked up and met a pair of deep, intense eyes.

Michael stood there, looking frail while leaning against the wall. 

His eyes were red, clearly from crying. 

He was the picture of a delicate, helpless beauty. 

He looked beautiful, but I was still wearing the catfish mask! 

I stood there awkwardly, my toes curling in embarrassment. 

I had timed it perfectly; Michael shouldn’t have been home! 

The whiskers on my mask trembled slightly from the awkwardness. 

One man and one catfish locked in a deep gaze; the scene was unbearably awkward.

I said, "Sorry to bother you. It’s the wrong address." 

Michael opened his mouth but just stared at me, the catfish, in resentment. 

After a moment, he said, “Gwen, don’t leave. I know it’s you.”