by Harris

Dear Uncle Bracken, It goes without saying that you are my #stellerfriend - my sniffing bud, my dude. My bodyguard. The best friend a lowrider guy could have. Even when you grouch at me because you're sick of me chewing your whiskers. Even when you steal my treats. This story is for you. Squirt X

What whiskers though...

So my Uncle came to stay for a few days. On Saturday we headed to the beach. This is what it means to hang out with your best friend. Just running, with your ears flapping in the wind, at peace.

My Uncle's up there πŸ‘†πŸ»with πŸ‘¨πŸ».

Sandy paws are the best.

On Sunday my Uncle went back to the house he was born in as a πŸ‘ΆπŸ» to see his breeder and have his coat hand-stripped and his whiskers groomed.

πŸ‘©πŸ» and the breeder got talking. Now, side note: πŸ‘©πŸ» thinks the breeder may have got some details mixed up, because she can't deal with the enormity of this. But here goes: My Wire Dad, Teddy, is apparently my Uncle's Wire Grandad. Teddy had a daughter, my half-sister, who was my Uncle's Mum. You still with me?

This would make my Uncle Bracken my nephew.

Am I my Uncle's Uncle?

I felt discombobulated. I needed clarity.

"Squirt," Uncle Bracken said, "forget the family tree. I will always be your Uncle."

So what do best friends (and uncles and nephews) do when they have a few days to hang out together? Well, they do a few #doortraits and #benchtraits. Just normal uncle/nephew/guy stuff.

And last but not least, they goof around in party hats.

My Uncle Bracken, my #stellerfriend


#dogsofsteller #letterstounclebracken

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