Feeling guilty about being unable to fork out his share of the two roomate's living expenses, a subdued border collie indentures himself to his long time friend, an aloof, slob of an otter, until he can produce an income to pull his own weight. Antics ensue...

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I just don’t know what to do. It’s just, I’ve always been the responsible one, you know? Cameron and I go way back, it’s always been the two of us; we’re inseparable, even if we are a bit of an odd pair. But how can HE be the one who’s so stable, so collected while I’m the one falling apart? I’ve always kept my life nice and tidy, heck, without me, that Otter would never have made it through high-school, lazy as he is. But now, things are so complicated, and I feel spread way to thin to accomplish anything, while my roommate and best friend isn’t even fazed. How did he transition into adulthood so fast? What did he have that I was lacking? I’m so embarrassed, I can’t even look him in the eye; however, that probably had less to do with my shame and more to do with the fact that Cameron’s muzzle was completely submerged in last night’s leftovers.
“Dude, Jasper, chill out. You just need to get your shit together, that’s all.” He was saying. At least, that’s what I think he said. It was a little difficult to make out exactly what the otter was saying through the cardboard take-out box he was now tipping back to shovel more Asian cuisine into his face, “We’re bro’s. I’m not about to throw you out on the street just ‘cause you can’t cough up rent money for a few weeks. I got us covered, so stop giving me that sad puppy dog face. You don’t HAVE to leave.”
“But I DO.” I protest, deciding not to point out how difficult it is for a border collie such as myself NOT to give a ‘puppy dog face’ of some sort, “I can’t just leach off of you like some sad, pitiful parasite you keep around because you’d feel bad otherwise. You don’t know what it’s like to feel totally useless-I can’t take it anymore!”
“You bet I do, and it’s not as bad as you’re letting on,” my nonchalant friend snorts into his meal, amused, “ ‘Sides, you make an adorable parasite, it’s nice havin’ you around.” Setting down his meal, Cameron reached across the kitchen table and playfully ruffled the fur on my head. He never seemed to understand personal space, or didn’t care one way or another, but I’ve long since gotten used to it.
“Look I appreciate it,” I say, exasperated, burying my face in my hands. His aloof, easy-going demeanor could be so frustrating at times, “but I really can’t stay. I don’t want to get used to living off of other people’s money you know? I want to be able to stand on my own two feet. What if I get too dependent on your help? I’ll never grow up, and I’ll never know what it’s like to be a fully functioning adult like…”
“-Like me?” he snickers good-naturedly, “boy are you one confused mutt!” Tossing the empty box in the trash, my friend rises from his chair and stretches indulgently as I stand to meet him, coming up short of his height by just a few inches. “But hey, if its motivation you need, I’m pretty sure we can work SOMEthing out,” he smirks toothily, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you’re dead set on being miserable, you might as well do it here so I can get something out of it,” Cameron’s muzzle was now split into that all too familiar mischievous grin of his, “So why don’t you quit grumbling and do something. Do your good pal a few favors; you know how much I hate housework.”
“So what, you want me to play as your housewife?” I’m still unsure. Doing a few chores doesn’t quiet feel like enough compensation for my friend providing me with practically everything I need. Not on his paycheck.
“Well…perhaps. Depending on how cryptic your view of marriage goes. Does ‘unconditional servitude’ just about sound like your description of a housewife’s duties?”
“Oh…” Okay, that’s a bit more like it…but all the sudden, I’m not so sure about this idea.
“Hey, you asked for motivation. So here it is: until you’re able to pull your weight around here, you get to bounce around and be my fluffy little slave and carry out my every whim. You clean my dishes, trim my toenails, scratch my ass if my hands are preoccupied, whatever, and, most importantly, you don’t run off and starve in a ditch somewhere ‘cause you can’t stand getting help from your resident lazy slob.” He winked, prodding me in the chest, “Don’t think I don’t know why you wanna be ‘mister responsible’ over here. You’ve got my help, now get used to it. Anyway, I kinda like the thought of you owing me one.”
“Well…okay, but I know I’m going to regret this.” Technically not true, I already AM regretting it. This could get nasty. I mean, REALLY nasty if I knew Cameron. To put it politely, he is a bit of a freak.
“Boy are you gonna! For now, I’m off to work before my manager fires my ass and we’re BOTH stuck in deep shit. Catch ya later bro!”
“See ya.”
You may be wondering why I, being the shy, reserved worry-wart of a canine I am, came to be such good friends with the obnoxious, crude, lazy otter. But, to be honest, his charm really did lay in that aloof sloppiness that caused most others to dismiss him at a first glance. Sure he could be gross at times; in fact, he seemed to take considerable pleasure in churning my stomach by sharing his latest sexual fantasy or, dear god, his various bodily emissions with me. But I, being my insecure, introverted self, couldn’t help but enjoy otter’s openness, his brutal honesty. You always got the full package with my good friend, uncensored, unabridged, 100% Cameron-the-otter, and there was a certain sense of security with always knowing exactly what someone thinks of you for a change, rather than being left in the dark. I knew Cameron for what he was: crude, unmotivated, and freaky; however, he was also extremely kind, generous, and an incredibly honest and loyal friend. If I had to choose to put my life into the hands of any single person, it would be Cameron’s. I mean, sure, he might mess with it a bit, or use it to wipe his boogers or something, but at least I’d know it’d be safe….
…of course, by no means was I looking forward to what the sloppy otter had in store for me after he got back, however….

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Yeah, I was struck with a minor bout of insomnia, so I decided to type out this little prologue to set up an idea that was bouncing around in my head. I was also driven by all the encouragement you guys gave me earlier, I really appreciate it!
More to come! Don't worry, I'll be sure to load the next part with loads of fun stuff right from the beginning, but personally, I rather liked this set up. Of course, that may just be fatigue talking-I might return after a few hours of sleep to find that I had merely flapped a bunch incoherent syllables with my clumsy fingers in my sleepiness!
Oh! And what do you guys think about the first-person perspective? I'm kinda digging the fresh change after spending so much time typing that other story in third person omniscient.