Guest Woofer

Er, writer

I am involved in a workshop all week, so I have asked a family member to step in. He doesn’t have a lot of narrative experience, but he’s enthusiastic and informs me that he has a LOT to say.

Hi, my name is Bron-Yr-Aur Loeffler, but everyone just calls me Bronny. I’m apparently named after a Led Zeppelin song, which is in turn named after a Welsh cottage where the band wrote a seminal album. My humans talk a lot about this kind of thing, and to be honest it goes over my head. I like my name, and that’s all that matters to me.

I’m 10 years old! Emily said that is 70 years in dog, whatever that means, and Mom said I’m in my grumpy old man era. I just had a birthday on June 10, which is also the birthday of someone called Judy Garland though it has not been explained to me why I should care. I always know it is my birthday because my humans are extra gushy and they all sing to me and Mom gives me ice cream that’s just for me.

Summer is an extremely stressful time for me for several reasons.

First of all, the humans are in the house more often, but not on any kind of predictable schedule. Except for Dad. I can always count on Dad, which is why he’s my favorite. All year long, Dad and I get up when the sky is still dark. He gets out of bed in the dark so as not to wake Mom, and tries not to trip over me as we go downstairs. He does his exercises while I watch and then we have a little cuddle on the floor. After that, he FEEDS ME (yay!) and we go for a walk. He talks to me when we walk, encouraging and praising me, and sometimes pointing out stars or the moon in the sky. I guard him while he takes a shower, and then he leaves. I go up to sleep with Mom until she gets up. It’s the same every day and I love it.

Yes, there is this thing called the weekend when I get fed later and Dad stays home, but often there is bacon on those days and that makes up for the disrupted schedule.

However, summer is like one long — super unpredictable — weekend, and it stresses me out. Mom is mostly home, which is fine when she is sitting in one place with a book or computer or laptop, but she gets upset when I’m doing my job during the day. You know, when I have to stand at the open window and bark as loudly as possible when anyone walks by. How else will they know that this is my house and my humans and they should just keep walking?

I should say, guarding the house from pedestrians and squirrels and the occasional deer is my primary job. My other job is to monitor the inhabitants inside the house. It used to be I just had to worry about where the humans were, what they were eating, and whether they had left any garbage around for me to eat and then throw up, and Jane. Jane the Cat has lived here for about half my life, and supervising her stresses me right out. I’ll just be settling down for a lovely snooze on the couch when Mom says, JANE… in that tone and I have to leap up and bark my head off at her. Mom tells me that I’m a good boy, but that next time she’ll call me if she needs my help. But let’s face it — she always needs my help.

If Jane the Cat wasn’t trouble enough, Emily and her boy, Breyden (whom I LOVE because he takes me for walks and talks to me and sometimes he runs with me too) brought another cat into the house. Can you even believe it?! She’s kind of a guest, so I don’t bark my head off at her when she’s naughty, but I do cry and whine so that Mom is aware. It’s exhausting. Mom says she feels bad for Patches — that’s her name — because she is living with her crabby aunt (Jane) and grumpy old man (me), and all she really wants us to do is play with her. Like I have time for that.

Speaking of boys, Billy is almost never home and I hate it. Sometimes I sit outside his room because I forget he isn’t there. He always keeps the door shut, so I can’t even go in and clean up all the partially eaten snacks he leaves in there. Sometimes he stops home, takes a shower, and then gives me a cuddle before he leaves again. Every once in a while he lets me into his room while he watches TV. If I’m very quiet, he forgets that I’m there and I get to take a nap surrounded by all the good boy smells. It’s the best.

I shouldn’t complain. I love my people so much. Emily tells me all the time how handsome I am (even though I already know) and she is utterly delighted when I greet her as she comes in the door. Billy plays with me like I’m still a puppy, and did I mention I sometimes get to go in his room? Mom and Dad are mostly really good about staying in their areas on my king size bed, but sometimes I have to remind them not to touch me with their feet. Mom shares her popcorn with me (Dad has learned that he cannot talk to me during popcorn time, lest I am distracted and miss a dropped kernel), and of course Dad is my favorite.

To tell you the truth, I don’t know how this family functioned before I came along. I knew I was needed the moment I visited all those years ago. Dad told me he loved me almost immediately, for crying out loud. It took a little time, but I trained them all to be the high-functioning unit you know today. You’re welcome.

Please excuse me now: Mom is making dinner and I need to stand directly under her feet in case she drops something. My work is never done.

Thanks, Bronny.

Thanks for reading.

Love, Susie