CHAPTER 1: The Move to West Egg

I never thought that so much could happen in just one summer. I know this is a dog eat dog world, but how could things have gotten so out of control? I don't think I'll ever really know how, but I need to write it all down, to tell the story, so that maybe someday someone will be able to figure out why we acted the way we did.

Hi, I'm Nick Carraway. It is the year 1922, and this is my diary.

This was a time where the treats were thicker, the parties were bigger, and the morals—there were none. I attended Tail University for puppies and now I sell bones. After the war, I moved from the Midwest to go out East, on Long Island where West Egg became my new home. That is where this whole story begins.

I moved into my small doghouse, which was barely big enough to fit me but somehow took up most of my paycheck. After eating my first meal of cheap kibble, and slurping up the water in my bowl, I looked at myself in the mirror. I had what I now know to have been a giddy, far too naïve smile. It wasn't my fault; I couldn't have known what would happen in the next couple of months.

Well, pretty soon after I moved in, my cousin and her mate, Daisy and Tom Buchanan, who lived across the lake from me, had a dinner. This is where I met the gorgeous golfer Jordan Baker, the most beautiful and most intimidating dog I had ever met. This is Daisy, my very pretty second cousin. She is married to Tom Buchanan, who I was at school with. Tom was old money, entitled, pure-bred sort. The kind that didn't understand the value of a chew toy, or a treat, and is only happy when he's got millions of treats and toys. Once he's got everything any dog could possibly want. He marked his territory everywhere.

I soon learned that, in this time, faithful was not a term used in elite conversation. Daisy's husband, Tom, was having a torrid affair with Myrtle Wilson, and Daisy's own history of love was the catalyst for this tale. Myrtle was unhappily married to George Wilson, who owns an unsuccessful garage for broken chew toys.

Next door to me is the mysterious Jay Catsby, whose huge mansion is the setting of his many lavish parties. He's always had so many treat, bones, and chew toys. I was how he ever got so much fun stuff to play with…

Not long after I moved to the East, I was invited to one of my mysterious neighbour's parties. And I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy. What was so strange, however, was that hardly anyone had received an invite, or even knew who the host was, not that Catsby had ever really made himself all that known. But I did not really care, because Jordan was there! We chased each other around the dance floor all night long! She's a bit standoffish, but she sure smells good.

Now I've been seeing a bit of Catsby—I actually enjoy his company very much. But some of his associates are a bit suspect. I've been trying to understand who exactly this Catsby is, he's a bit of an enigma, and I struggle to learn anything genuine about him. His true identity is what occupies my mind most of the—SQUIRREL!

I guess this dog-eat-dog world is much smaller than I thought, because it turns out that Catsby and I served in the same division in the war, but that is not what Catsby finds so interesting about me. Rather, it is that my cousin is Daisy.

After spending more time with Jordan, she revealed to me the answer to the question that is Catsby. Despite Catsby's own description of his tragic and bejeweled past, he comes from a penniless Midwestern family. Ever since before the war, Catsby has been in love with Daisy and has always wanted to be with her. Unfortunately, the war and school pulled the two apart. They went their separate ways, but now Catsby has returned and hoped to marry her once again.

It all makes sense now! The reason he bought a house here, the reason why he throws such extravagant parties is so that Daisy, his only true love, will come back to him.