Chewie posing, Barnaby learning

Had this handsome nutter over for half a day yesterday. His behaviour traits all remind me of Chewie when he was that age—restless, cute, ball addict (still is), bark at doorbells (still does), lay down to meet dogs, always wanting to touch some part of me…

It was fun revisiting those crazy, lovely, hyper, cute early days with Chewie, just for a brief morning.

Just another ordinary upbringing

The details of my life are quite inconsequential … Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloé with webbed feet. My father would womanize; he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament … My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon … luge lessons … In the spring, we’d make meat helmets … When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds — pretty standard, really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe. At the age of 14, a Zoroastrian named Vilmer ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum — it’s breathtaking … I suggest you try it.

Dr. Evil