Bruce the dog sends an email to his Grandma

Following Wednesday’s article about dogs sending emails on their own computers, I couldn’t help wondering what an email from Bruce to his Grandma Shirley might read like.

Dear Grandma Shirley,

I write to discuss with you a matter of utmost importance.

It has been some time now – certainly a couple of hours – since you and I trotted around the marina and went to visit the ducks. In that time, I have chewed the end of a cigar bone, leapt onto Michael’s lap to quality control the latest batch of dog photographs, and sat on Grandpa Tezza’s knee waiting to shout at the postman. I have even performed the crumb dance, switching from foot to foot with mouth open under Uncle Ben’s feet, waiting for a morsel of sandwich to drop between my jaws.

I'm not just a pretty face, you know!

I’m not just a pretty face, you know!

After using my super food-magnetising powers to attract a good quarter of Uncle Ben’s sandwich from the kitchen top to the floor at my feet, I cleaned between my paws thoroughly on the unauthorised rug. That is, until I was spotted and told to go and wash on my authorised rug. I fail to understand why I’m allowed on one rug and not another. What’s the problem, people?

After going on sniff patrol around the kitchen bin to check Uncle Ben hadn’t missed it when chucking his crumbs, I had a fairly lengthy conversation with the two terriers across the road. Well, I say conversation. Really I told them they had no business shrieking at the top of their voices in my neighbourhood. I shall have to cancel out any of their smells with a cock of my own leg when I next go out. I can’t have those two thinking they rule the street.

Then I sat at the back door on Dave (i.e., cat) patrol. Why is it that, when I spend ages fixing my eye on the very hole in the hedge that the Dave usually creeps into the garden through, it never appears. Yet the second I turn my back, that infernal meowing begins again in earnest. I’m sure next door’s Dave is trying to wind me up on purpose. Well, next time you see it Grandma, you might tell the infernal creature that its tactics are working.

Earlier, someone mentioned Granny Cath, so I sat at the window for a terribly long time waiting for her car to pull up, expecting her to appear at any moment with the promise of a trip to the park. But, alas, this did not happen.

I am now bored, having exhausted all other pursuits. Please pick up cousin James – I haven’t seen him for so long – and come round as quickly as your two legs can manage. And bring a ball. Please.

You will find me in a patch of sunshine halfway up the stairs. It gives me a perfect view of the front door, so I’ll know when you get here.

Yours in licks and woofs,

Your grandog, Bruce X

Words: Bruce Thompson (sort of)

Email Aislinn:

The Mighty Pooch is a specialist dog photographers based in Yorkshire but happy to travel for photoshoots. Go behind the scenes of some of our shoots. The photograph attached to this article was taken on an iPhone and is not indicative of our professional work.

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