Dear Diary,

These past few months, I have been having some really disturbing dreams. A few weeks ago, I dreamed I was kissing a Magog. When I woke up, I found myself lying face down on my bearskin rug, out of my bed and smack dab in the middle of the floor. Needless to say, I burned that stupid rug in the compost pile. I never should have bought it in the first place. I mean, it just clashed with the rest of my room ensemble anyway. I’m not sure what inspired me to dream such an atrocity, but I have a hunch it might have been a combination of too much whiskey, and that roadkill Harper calls “fine cuisine”.

As if the Magog dream wasn’t bad enough, that was nothing compared to the one I experienced a few days later. In this dream I found myself butt naked, running through the halls of Andromeda, as Dylan chased me with his forcelance. He kept shouting at me, over and over…”Have you seen my forcelance? Have you seen my forcelance?” It was horrid. I ran and ran down endless never ending hallways. Finally I made it to my quarters and ran inside - only to discover that the rest of the crew were there, waiting to throw me a surprise birthday party. It was then that I looked down and noticed I was wearing these big pink fuzzy slippers. When I woke up, I found that a local dog had snuck its way into my bedroom and was lying on my feet. Needless to say, I kicked the dog off my bed.

I had every intention of throwing her out into the streets of Seefra to fend for herself. “I don’t take freeloaders!” I shouted at her. Instead of leaving, however, the dog just looked at me with those big brown eyes – a genetic trait I’m sure is a survival skill. After all, one look into a dog’s eyes and you’re hooked. Then, once they have you their survival is assured – for you end up cooking for them, cleaning up after them, and caring for them as if they were your own children. I should have remembered that, but it was too late. I had made the mistake of looking into her eyes, and because of that I didn’t have the heart to send her out into the street. Instead, I tried to feed her some of my leftover dinner, which she promptly refused (and who could blame her, considering Harper had prepared it). I didn’t have any water for her, so instead I decided to give her just a little of my whiskey, which she seemed to enjoy. But it did make her a little tipsy. I noticed that when she hit her head on the foot of my bed and let out a yelp. It was then that I decided that it really wouldn’t hurt to let her climb up into the bed with me – as long as she didn’t lie on my feet again. Besides, having the comfort of an animal was the next best thing to having a woman in my bed. At least I didn’t have to worry about trying to perform for her or make her happy. Dog is man’s best friend for a reason, and she rewarded my invitation by snuggling up next to me and licking my face. Of course, I had to put a stop to that - her breath stank of stale meat, which had by now combined with the whiskey I had given her earlier. Nevertheless, having her big warm fluffy body lying next to me, making no demands, more than compensated for her musty dog odor. She was even better than that bearskin rug I had burned a few days earlier!

But still, even now as I write this and she sits next to me, begging for more scraps and whiskey, I have to wonder. Where did she come from, and how did she get here? I’m not sure. Since I arrived on Seefra I have seen no others. I even asked around a bit to see if I could find her owner, but no one so far has wanted to claim her (or maybe they’re just afraid to try). All I know is, one thing is for certain - she now follows me around everywhere I go. Sometimes it’s annoying, but I still don’t have the heart to send her away. After all, maybe she feels as lost as I do. Maybe she got sucked into this rathole the same way I did, and ever since her arrival has been clinging to the last bit of hope she has left, that things might get better in her life. Maybe she has been having nightmares too. Then again, maybe she’s a happy pooch without a care in the world, or is too dumb to hurt the way I have been hurting since I arrived. But one thing is for sure, she loves me unconditionally – and that’s something I really need right now.

Besides, since she’s been around, my nightmares have gotten less severe in their duration and intensity. Not to mention the fact that having an adoring dog by my side has been a definite chick magnet. I found that out this afternoon, when the hottest babe to walk into my life since I arrived here on Seefra made her way into the bar. The first thing she spotted was my dog, lying faithfully next to me on the floor. The beautiful gorgeous luscious woman immediately struck up a conversation with me, despite the fact that I looked like death warmed over, what with my latest hangover and lack of personal hygiene.

“Aww, what a beautiful dog! What’s his name?” she asked as she stroked the dog lovingly.

“It’s not a he…it’s a she. Her name is Louisa.”

“Louisa. That’s a nice name.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure.”

I have a date with her tonight (the woman, not the dog). I love you Louisa, but if this woman comes home with me, I’m afraid you will have to fend for yourself – at the foot of the bed, and not in it. I’ll be sure to leave you a bowl of whiskey and some table scraps to compensate.