When I moved in with my girlfriend of two years I noticed that she was odd.

I’d known a little before; her habit of eating quickly and standing at an angle, like she was posing subtly for a magazine.

But the moment I moved those boxes into the apartment it took all of twenty minutes for her to have stored everything away.

Perhaps she was efficient. She certainly was clean. Every single counter was clear of clutter and throws and pillows she folded and locked away each night.

She still ate fast, and cooked fast too. In an hour she would make a meal, eat, and then clear it away before cleaning her hands.

I tried to help, but she looked panicked every time I ate slowly, or left a book out.

Once I left a glass of water on my bedside table and she didn’t sleep a wink.

There was also the matter of the keys.

She had a dozen of them tucked into a inside pocket, for little keepsake boxes and diaries.

I sort of got used to living in this way, and the penny finally dropped when we went to visit her family.

We’d met before for dinner and formal events, but seeing the house I understood everything.

Her parents had a total of seven dogs, four cats, two snakes, and a ferret.

Every meal was a challenge to eat before some energetic animal noses it’s way into your plate, even standing led to big retrievers trying to topple you and cats landing on your shoulders.

Her father left a newspaper on the side and it was gone before he came back with a cup of tea.

Her parents house was messy but it seemed these animals loved taking new things that were put down. Sure. I could tell that they were loved, but not trained in the slightest.

Her mother didn’t seem to mind the mess, putting soiled sheets and blankets on the line like it was nothing, simply scrubbing stains with soap and leaving … messes … still visible on fabric.

But I managed to avoid being licked to death, and washed my hands on instinct.

It was when I was washing that I realised my girlfriend had trained to to survive her parents.