Letters to Brychan

In a slight deviation from the “Letter from…” feature, Ant Evans has begun writing a series of letters to Brychan, the miniature schnauzer who has been sharing his home since the 28th of August this year. Being from Brecon and now living in Caernarfon, Brychan has demonstrated an understanding of both Welsh and English. Understanding and listening are two very different skills, however…

Dear Brychan,

First of all, welcome to Caernarfon! I know you’ve lived here since the end of August, but I thought I’d take this opportunity to welcome you more formally and reiterate a few things I told you when you first arrived at home:

I love you to the end of the universe and back.

My home is yours for the rest of your life.

I am never, nor will I ever be, angry with you.

Everything (& I mean everything) will be OK.

After the past few weeks, possible alterations to the above could include: my home is yours for the rest of your life. But the occasional trip to your adoptive grandparents while I’m down south with work probably does us both the world of good.

And while I’m never, nor will I ever be, angry with you, barking at every human, dog and herring gull you see (yet strangely ignoring cats) can be frustrating. You’ve been doing this since being allowed out on a lead, despite having been as quiet as a mouse when I had to carry you everywhere before you’d completed your vaccination course.

Yes, I completely understand from the tone of your barks that you’re excited and want to say hello to every human and dog you see, because you love everybody. But, unfortunately, not every human or dog (aside from the black-and-white, long-haired Chihuahua and his human that we met last week) appreciates excitable puppies.

Is a lack of taste responsible? You may well think that. I couldn’t possibly comment.

I won’t ask you to stop barking. You’re a miniature schnauzer, after all. That’d be akin to asking you to stop breathing. However, if you could moderate your barking and resist the temptation to give our near neighbours a dawn chorus during your 6am walk, that’d be very much appreciated.

We both have to live here, after all. I’ve been homeless with a dog once before and I’d sooner not repeat the experience.

Now to a couple of other points I’d like to raise with you. Firstly, the Caffi Maes Nutella incident. Yes, I’ve led a very sheltered life and didn’t realise Nutella only contained 7% chocolate.

But that panicked rush to the vet is an experience I’d also sooner not repeat. Luckily, you were OK and, taxi fares aside, it cost nothing.

Turning to the matter of grooming. I grew up with Labradors, whose shedding necessitated hoovering twice a day. Being a miniature schnauzer, you require slightly more assistance in the grooming department to avoid looking like a messy furball. A few points I’d like you to remember:

Shampoo isn’t lava. I promise!

Please don’t scream like I’m about to amputate your limbs without anaesthetic when I try to clip your dewclaws. I didn’t like having my toenails cut as a small child either. I survived to adulthood with all digits intact. You will too. I promise.

The comb and stripping knife aren’t toys. You’ve plenty of those already.

Keen to end this note on a positive, let me please reiterate points 1 and 4 from the beginning. I love you to the end of the universe and back. Everything, and I mean everything, will be OK.

All my love,

Dad

Now, where’s that wine…?