I'm so bow wow sorry that I haven't put my paw to the paper until now. The rainy weather in June and the hots of July had me in a real funk. Being house bound really got underneath my fur coat. Seems to me we've had more rain this spring than cats have meows. And yet to come are the "dog days of August." We get blamed for more than our four legs can stand.

And speaking of cats, have you passed the home of Bob and Betty Bruns? The sign outside their door according to my driver says, "Dogs have owners; cats have staff."

At first I was taken back a bit; and then it dawned on me, cats need help...poor things. They can't do much for themselves except perhaps purr a lot and bang a fake mouse on a stick.

But dogs; when they need to find their home in the maze of The Garland's halls it's no big deal. If called, we can fake a hearing loss yet come for a treat from a mile away. I know to the minute when the chicken hits the kitchen counter; the cheese (only Swiss) is about to be served and when company's coming. We are independent, play outside and are taught tons of tricks. Being very smart, we do for ourselves and often get praise for ringing a bell to go outside or sharing our love with The Garlands residents. Even Betty Catlin, our next door neighbor and Jadwiga, our housekeeper, claim I'm very smart and they love me to pieces, which, of course, I return in kind.

And how about being known as man's best friend? Lately we have garnered more PR for the likes of me. (Check out the latest issue of Quintessnetial Barrington.) Isn't my scooter driver handsome? Yes, I have to admit a limited staff lives in my household but their duties are done after my barking commands.

Now, what can cats do? Well maybe a few are self sufficient. But most of the time they just lie around, preen themselves, chow down and expect to be waited on by their "staff." How often do you see a cat riding around The Garlands outside or in? The only time cats make it out in the halls is when they scoot between their staff's legs and race for freedom.

Now before closing this letter I do have to give some kudos to that furry breed. It could be that their kittens are more cuddly than our frisky pups. Also cats best us in age. According to the experts they live longer. I don't have a clue as to the years eight or nine lives add up to but I'm almost 14. At 6 or 7 times one of my years I'm between 86 and 98 compared to humans. Not too shabby if I say so myslef. And despite my poor eye sight and slower gait, I love living here with my wonderful group of friends. Lucky us...and that includes all the cats.

Don't take this to heart Cato. I still love you. (For those who don't know, Cato is Bonnie's cat.) I'll write again sooner rather than later. I promise.

Love, P.D. (Perfect Dog)

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