Ummmm, hello. I’m Sunny. I’ll tell you about my Lucky Dog brother as long as it doesn’t interfere with my 7:30 a.m. beach time.
I’m the smarter, darker and more intentional sibling. In my everyday tuxedo and with my freckled nose, I bring the mystery, the good looks and, frankly, the common sense. My biggest challenge for the past three years has centered around him. So, I guess Berney is a Lucky Dog because I tolerate him as my favorite brother.
Before Berney, life was good. I was the only dog in the family, free to develop bad habits, defy gravity and generally explore my potential. Then this feral, spinning, barking half brother of mine showed up.
At first, I thought it was a joke. Three years later, Mom and Dad, I’m still waiting for the punchline. Maybe I hold a tiny grudge and choose to chew my paws in protest. We all cope differently.
Describing my little brother begins with a heavy sigh and an eye roll. Energetic doesn’t even begin to describe him; he’s like a windup toy somebody forgot to put an off switch on.
He spins around so much that I actually conserve energy just watching him.
My motto is to take time to smell the flowers AND everything in between. His is something like, “Look at me! Look at me!” He’s always so excited about everything, so naturally, he gets all the attention.
If I want to play ball, he steals it. If I want to drink water from the pool, he wants to drink water from the pool. If I want to sit close, he wants to sit closer. And, uh, the need to cuddle? Gross, bro. Get away.
He’s so much, all the time, that I occasionally go unnoticed, which works for me because I’m clearly the more refined of the two. Berney enters every situation at full speed without reading the room. Amateur move.
Mr. FOMO spins through life so fast that he rarely knows where he actually is. I’m like, “Dude. Chill.” But his attention span is like a gnat’s. He’s already late for the next thing, and he doesn’t even know what the next thing is yet.
It’s exhausting, and luckily, I’m confident enough to know who’s really in charge. Mostly, I sit back and wait to see whether he’s going to blow a gasket.
We do agree on a few things, though. Always beg. Humans love that one. Bark loudly and with unnecessary aggression at everyone who enters the yard bearing presents. And apparently, you cannot fly off the porch. I tested the theory. You cannot.
We also believe in sleeping in, slow mornings and the most sacred family rule of all: 7:30 a.m. means Zoe gets to the bus and we get to the beach. Nonnegotiable. Everything in my day orbits around that moment.
The truth is, for all his spinning, stealing, crowding and desperate need to be involved in absolutely everything, I’d probably notice if he stopped. Not that I’d tell him! Our crazy is our crazy. Every family has one, I guess.
So, I’ll roll with this island life. Best humans next to me. Berney making a scene somewhere. And the beach at 7:30 a.m. SHARP.
Now, what time is it?