Brenna the Parish Lab
with her Master - the Pastor

My life as the Rectory Dog began at the end of August 1993. I was about a year and a half old at the time, and I was shipped off to the Gloucester County Animal Shelter in Clayton. I remember the first day my Master - the Pastor - came into the Animal Shelter. I had a room there for about thirty days. He looked carefully at all those other dogs - all barking their heads off. I had heard something about fish: they wouldn’t get caught if they kept their mouth shut. So I kept my mouth shut. I thought he fell for it, the way he pointed to me and all that. But he left. The next day he was back and I knew I had to make a play for him, so I did. The people there told him it was good he came that day. Had he come the next day, I wouldn’t have been there. Boy, was he naive! He thought some other person was going to take me. Little did he know that I was headed for that Great Big Pound in the Sky. I wasn’t ready to go there, so I had to show him I wanted a home. And it worked. Even the parish secretaries, Anne and Chris, came to look me over. I guess they liked me, too. After he signed a bunch of papers, he brought me here. That was the end of August 1993 and I’ve been here ever since.

It hasn’t been such a bad life. I guess I caused him some grief in those early days. I started to acquire a taste for all those things in the yard: the garden hose, the lawn chair, the soda cans, even the plastic milk crate was tempting. In fact, they all tasted pretty good. The best things were the York Peppermint Patties in the Waterford candy dish. And I didn’t leave any traces. I don’t know how he found out. That was in my younger days. I’ve learned a lot since then. I’ve even learned how to handle Babe. My dog’s life isn’t too bad. How many other dogs share a waterbed with their master? There are times when I get in first and he has to push me out of the way to get his space, but what the heck - I guess he’s entitled to his share.

I eat pretty well, too. Yeah, that yucky dog food if I have to. But usually I get the scraps from lunch and Joyce, the rectory cook, gives me the leftovers at dinner. The parish secretaries, Anne and Chris, make me jump for the mints at lunch time, but I humor them.

I like it when people come to the rectory. Especially Leo, who brings me lots of treats. And Granny Miller, who likes to get down on the floor and play with me. And the other kids who come in, like Diana and Katie who bring me candy. But I can growl and show my teeth when people come and nobody’s here. I let them know who’s boss.

I don’t even need a calendar. I always know when it’s Friday. My Master - the Pastor, wears dark clothes most of the time, but on Friday he puts on his sneakers and old clothes and I know that means we’re going to the trailer. When I hear that "T" word - "Trailer" - I am ready to go. It's a dog's life!