a postcard from Bruce

Hiya. I am Bruce. When the humans go away, I get to live in this box with them.

Living in the box means that I can go exploring. This is good.

But they still don’t let me at the delicious smoky things. This is bad.

I eat meats, so why can I not eat these meats?

And why may I not sniff at the behinds of my three new friends?

Humans are unaccountable and strange. Here, for example, they told me proudly that I was “Ireland’s most northerly dog.”

. . .and here that I had to sit very still because I was on “giantscauseway”

Humans, you are stupid. Who cares what a place is called? What matters is how it smells and whether or not there are dead crabs to be found there.

When a place is lacking in dead crabs, it usually has a stick.

Watersticks are particularly good.

I’ve recently discovered a fun new game . . .


I’m not sure why they find me so amusing . . .

. . . but I think that the beach might be my favourite place of all.