Christmas · 78 days to go

Give a book about their pet

You give it. They tell about their pet and get a 28-page book.

Max
Max
2016
Max
Max
2016
For Max, who makes it his idea.
Max1
Breed
Kooikerhondje
Born
2016
Lives with
Bas, Femke, Noor and Otto the cat
Loves
The cheese drawer and the word 'garden'
Fears
The wheelie bin, every Thursday
Max2
Whichever Face Is Nearest
Max doesn't bark. At quarter to six he stands next to the bed and breathes on whichever face is nearest, patiently, until that person gives up and gets up. There is no rush in it, no whining, just that steady breathing until someone moves. Then he walks ahead of them to the kitchen, as if the whole thing, the getting up and the going down, was entirely his own idea.
Max3
Every morning the same: he wins without making a sound.
Max4
The Bin That Follows
Every Thursday morning, for ten years, the wheelie bin appears at the kerb and Max treats it like a threat that has been building all week. He gives it a wide berth, walking round in a careful arc, and looks back over and over to check that it isn't following him down the street.
Max5
Ten years, same bin, same suspicion.
Max6
The face he makes when the cheese drawer opens.
Max7
The Cheese Drawer
It isn't the fridge door that does it. It's the drawer. Max can be asleep two rooms away, but the moment that drawer starts to slide he is there before it's fully open, standing at attention with the exact same look on his face. The word 'garden', said in any sentence at all, works just as fast.
Max8
He stepped off the edge as if there would be a floor.
Max9
Into the Canal
Max walked into the canal on the lead, mid-conversation with the neighbour, stepping off the edge as if there would be a floor. Mrs Wieringa said 'oh' and carried on about the hedge; she has known him since he was a puppy. He came out, shook himself over both of them, and carried on walking as if it was part of the route. They walked home wet, and Mr Wieringa had the crust ready at the fence as usual.
Max10
Half past eight, when the sun is off the lawn.
Max11
The corner where he sits, whether they are turning back or not.
Max12
Max13
Summer evening, after the ball. His default face.
Max14
Max15
Where He Really Sleeps
Officially, Max sleeps in the basket in the hall. Actually he sleeps on the floor under the kitchen table, on the one warm tile above the pipes, waiting for dinner. In winter he moves to the red blanket on the rug, which he pulls off the sofa himself. The basket stays empty, mostly for show.
Max16
The Sock Basket
Max gets away with socks. Only ever one, never a pair, and he doesn't chew them, he collects them in the basket he doesn't sleep in. It started that first winter, when Femke found eleven odd socks in the basket in the hall, the week they had given up looking for them. He had been taking one off the drying rack every morning. On washing day, they still count them back.
Max17
Eleven odd socks, the week they'd stopped looking.
Max18
Max19
Nobody gets in or out without a check.
Max20
The garden in Ten Boer. One lap, check the hedge, then down exactly there.
Max21
Watching the neighbour's chickens. He has never once moved towards them.
Max22
Ten minutes after dinner, the rug, the reading book.
Max23
Ten Minutes After Dinner
Noor started when she was six, with her school reading book, reading to Max ten minutes after dinner on the rug. He lay down that first evening with his head on her leg and has come back every single evening since, the same spot, the same ten minutes. He is usually asleep well before the chapter ends, however good the story is.
Max24
Quarter to six still comes early. Max still breathes on the nearest face until someone gives in, still walks ahead to the kitchen as if the idea were his. The cheese drawer still empties him out of a sound sleep. The wheelie bin still isn't trusted. Somewhere there is a sock he hasn't given back yet.
Max25
One sock at a time, and the basket in the hall still isn't where he sleeps.
Max26
This book was made for Max, from the words and photos of the people who love Max.
bookofmypet.com

Click the pages to leaf through

Gift

What do you give? Book with hardcover €34.99Printed, and as an eBook. Shipping included. eBook €6.99To read and keep on any screen. Anywhere in the world.

Who is it for? The pet's name, if you know itIt goes on the card. The recipient can still change it.

How the gift works

Say who it is for and what you want to add. Pay €34.99 with the hardcover, or €6.99 for the eBook.
You get a link, a card to print and an image for your phone. Or we email the gift on the day you choose.
The recipient unwraps it and makes the book. With the hardcover, the printed book comes to their home too. You hear when the book is ready.

Christmas. By email it works up to Christmas Day. The card by post: order by 10 December, to the Netherlands by 17 December. The recipient makes the book after unwrapping; the hardcover follows, usually within two weeks.

Make a book about your pet

You answer eight questions and choose your photos. We write a 28-page book from them. About ten minutes later you read it.

DogCatOther

Max is on the cover as an example. Your photo goes here.

A real book, with photos and drawings of your own pet

Otto looks up from the open printed book about Kees, on the page about Otto and Kees. — Otto with the first printed book. It is about Kees, his sister.

A photo of Max, an example dog, sitting on a path. — Photos of Max and Mo, two examples, each beside the drawing made from it. Your book gets drawings of your own pet the same way.

Drawing of Max on a path, in a pencil and watercolour style. — Photos of Max and Mo, two examples, each beside the drawing made from it. Your book gets drawings of your own pet the same way.

Six example books. Leaf through them.

Read Max's book

Made from 9 photos and the answers to the questions, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.

Max
Max
2016
Max
Max
2016
For Max, who makes it his idea.
Max1
Breed
Kooikerhondje
Born
2016
Lives with
Bas, Femke, Noor and Otto the cat
Loves
The cheese drawer and the word 'garden'
Fears
The wheelie bin, every Thursday
Max2
Whichever Face Is Nearest
Max doesn't bark. At quarter to six he stands next to the bed and breathes on whichever face is nearest, patiently, until that person gives up and gets up. There is no rush in it, no whining, just that steady breathing until someone moves. Then he walks ahead of them to the kitchen, as if the whole thing, the getting up and the going down, was entirely his own idea.
Max3
Every morning the same: he wins without making a sound.
Max4
The Bin That Follows
Every Thursday morning, for ten years, the wheelie bin appears at the kerb and Max treats it like a threat that has been building all week. He gives it a wide berth, walking round in a careful arc, and looks back over and over to check that it isn't following him down the street.
Max5
Ten years, same bin, same suspicion.
Max6
The face he makes when the cheese drawer opens.
Max7
The Cheese Drawer
It isn't the fridge door that does it. It's the drawer. Max can be asleep two rooms away, but the moment that drawer starts to slide he is there before it's fully open, standing at attention with the exact same look on his face. The word 'garden', said in any sentence at all, works just as fast.
Max8
He stepped off the edge as if there would be a floor.
Max9
Into the Canal
Max walked into the canal on the lead, mid-conversation with the neighbour, stepping off the edge as if there would be a floor. Mrs Wieringa said 'oh' and carried on about the hedge; she has known him since he was a puppy. He came out, shook himself over both of them, and carried on walking as if it was part of the route. They walked home wet, and Mr Wieringa had the crust ready at the fence as usual.
Max10
Half past eight, when the sun is off the lawn.
Max11
The corner where he sits, whether they are turning back or not.
Max12
Max13
Summer evening, after the ball. His default face.
Max14
Max15
Where He Really Sleeps
Officially, Max sleeps in the basket in the hall. Actually he sleeps on the floor under the kitchen table, on the one warm tile above the pipes, waiting for dinner. In winter he moves to the red blanket on the rug, which he pulls off the sofa himself. The basket stays empty, mostly for show.
Max16
The Sock Basket
Max gets away with socks. Only ever one, never a pair, and he doesn't chew them, he collects them in the basket he doesn't sleep in. It started that first winter, when Femke found eleven odd socks in the basket in the hall, the week they had given up looking for them. He had been taking one off the drying rack every morning. On washing day, they still count them back.
Max17
Eleven odd socks, the week they'd stopped looking.
Max18
Max19
Nobody gets in or out without a check.
Max20
The garden in Ten Boer. One lap, check the hedge, then down exactly there.
Max21
Watching the neighbour's chickens. He has never once moved towards them.
Max22
Ten minutes after dinner, the rug, the reading book.
Max23
Ten Minutes After Dinner
Noor started when she was six, with her school reading book, reading to Max ten minutes after dinner on the rug. He lay down that first evening with his head on her leg and has come back every single evening since, the same spot, the same ten minutes. He is usually asleep well before the chapter ends, however good the story is.
Max24
Quarter to six still comes early. Max still breathes on the nearest face until someone gives in, still walks ahead to the kitchen as if the idea were his. The cheese drawer still empties him out of a sound sleep. The wheelie bin still isn't trusted. Somewhere there is a sock he hasn't given back yet.
Max25
One sock at a time, and the basket in the hall still isn't where he sleeps.
Max26
This book was made for Max, from the words and photos of the people who love Max.
bookofmypet.com

Max's book on one page

Read Mo's book

Made from 8 photos and the answers to the questions, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.

Mo
Mo
2022
Mo
Mo
2022
For Mo, who watches the garden as if he owns it.
Mo1
Breed
Long-haired tabby, says shelter
Born
2022
Lives with
Sanne, Deventer
His garden
The acacia tree
Fears
The blender
Gets away with
Sitting on the worktop
Mo2
Quarter past six, and the tapping starts.
Mo3
Tap. Wait. Tap.
Quarter past six, Mo sits on the bedroom window sill and taps the glass with one claw. Tap. Wait. Tap. He keeps going until Sanne turns over in bed. Then he jumps up onto the pillow and lies down on her hair, settling in, and only then does the day properly begin.
Mo4
What the cat flap brings
Every autumn Mo brings in leaves, one at a time, left on the mat by the back door. Never a mouse. Once he brought a whole acacia branch, twice his own length, dragged in from the garden. It was too big. He got as far as the cat flap and no further, and that was where the trouble began.
Mo5
Under the acacia in October. The leaves that fall, he brings in.
Mo6
The lowest branch, his spot. I am not allowed to stand under it.
Mo7
His branch, his garden
The acacia in the garden belongs to Mo. He sits on the lowest branch and looks down at the neighbours from up there, and Sanne is not allowed to stand underneath it. Indoors he has claimed something else entirely: the moving box from 2022 that she meant to throw out and now, somehow, cannot.
Mo8
Mo9
Stuck in the flap
He wouldn't let go. With the acacia branch too big for the cat flap, Mo stood there for a quarter of an hour, half inside and half out, gripping it. Sanne broke the branch off from the outside to free him. The piece he had been holding is still behind the sofa, exactly where it landed that day.
Mo10
Climbing the acacia. He gets to the first branch, then he calls.
Mo11
Among the red leaves of the vine. This is where he sits when the sun is on it.
Mo12
Mo13
On the branch in the garden. He is watching the neighbour.
Mo14
Rules Mo has broken
No cats on the worktop
Banned for three weeks
Back on the worktop
Sanne looks the other way
Mo15
The worktop war
Mo sits on the worktop while Sanne cooks. She banned it once and held firm for three whole weeks, refusing every time he jumped up. In the end she lost anyway. Now he sits up there again, watching the pan, and Sanne looks the other way, as if the rule had never existed at all.
Mo16
He no longer fits back there. He goes anyway.
Mo17
The sound of the blender
The blender is the one thing that undoes Mo completely. He hears the plug go into the socket, and before the switch is even flicked, he is gone from the room. He runs and wedges himself behind the washing machine, a gap he no longer really fits into anymore, and waits there until it is over.
Mo18
The bag that won
Once Mo found a plastic bag in the garden and stared it down for half an hour, flat to the ground, tail fat with concentration. Neither of them moved. Then a gust of wind took the bag and it blew away across the garden. Mo got up and walked inside as if he had won the standoff himself.
Mo19
Half an hour of staring, and then the wind decided it.
Mo20
How Jesse named him
Jesse calls Mo 'the fox', and it is because of the tail: reddish at the tip, twice as thick as the rest of him. Jesse saw him from behind in the garden once and thought, for a moment, that Sanne had a fox out there. The name stuck, and Jesse is still the only one Mo lets pick him up.
Mo21
From behind, in the garden, he really does look like a fox.
Mo22
Mo23
His tail is bigger than his head. In photos he looks fully grown. In real life he is the size of a loaf of bread.
Mo24
The acacia still drops its leaves and Mo still brings them in, one at a time, on the mat by the back door. The branch he wouldn't let go of is behind the sofa. Sanne still isn't allowed to stand under his spot on the lowest branch, and he still watches the neighbours from it, tail fat, like he owns the garden.
Mo25
The fox in the garden, still on his branch.
Mo26
This book was made for Mo, from the words and photos of the people who love Mo.
bookofmypet.com

Mo's book on one page

Read Pluis's book

Made from 3 photos and the answers to the questions, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.

Pluis
Pluis
2024
Pluis
Pluis
2024
For Pluis, who runs all night and forgives the alarm by morning.
Pluis1
Breed
Dwarf hamster
Born
2024
Lives with
Lars, in Utrecht
Loves
Sunflower seeds, hazelnuts
Fears
The alarm clock
Pluis2
Morning starts with a jump.
Pluis3
The Alarm Enemy
Every morning at eight, the alarm goes off, and Pluis jumps straight into the air. She runs inside without waiting to see what happens next. Lars tried a different alarm once, hoping for peace. It made no difference. That one scared her too. Eight o'clock is eight o'clock, whatever sound announces it, and Pluis meets it the same way every single day.
Pluis4
The Real Bedroom
Officially, Pluis sleeps in the wooden house. That is the story for visitors. In truth she dug a tunnel to the corner behind the wheel, and that is where she actually spends her days, buried under a heap of sawdust with just one ear showing. The wooden house sits empty and photogenic. The real bed is the one nobody built her.
Pluis5
One ear out. The rest is sawdust.
Pluis6
The Sound of a Bag
It does not matter which bag, or what is in it. The tearing sound is enough. Pluis can be fast asleep in her house, and within five seconds she is up against the glass, cheeks already puffed with air before she has seen a single seed. She has never once been wrong about what that sound means.
Pluis7
Cheeks already full of air.
Pluis8
Things She Gets Away With
Walking onto the table
Helping herself to the sunflower seeds
Doing it while the textbook is open
Facing zero consequences
Pluis9
The Flatmate's Bag
The seeds belong to Lars's flatmate, but Pluis has never respected that. She climbs onto the table while he sits there with his textbook open, walks straight over to his bag of sunflower seeds, and helps herself. He does nothing. Not a word, not a hand raised to stop her. She has learned exactly how far she can go, and the answer, so far, is all the way.
Pluis10
Ten minutes of waiting for a very full cheek.
Pluis11
The Hazelnut Problem
Pluis once stuffed an entire hazelnut into her cheek, so full she could no longer fit through the door of her house. She sat there for ten minutes, blocked by her own ambition, until Lars finally got the nut back out. Anyone would think she had learned something. The next evening she did the exact same thing again, cheek bulging, door impossible, lesson entirely unlearned.
Pluis12
On Daan's hand. Daan, who doesn't like her.
Pluis13
Daan's Hand
Daan says he doesn't like Pluis. Every evening he lets her sit on his hand anyway. The first time, he held his hand flat on the table and did not move for five minutes, waiting her out. Then he said 'right,' picked his book back up, and kept reading with her still sitting there on his palm, exactly where she'd decided to stay.
Pluis14
Who Belongs to Pluis
Lars
Comes home from lectures, gets the nut out of her cheek
Daan
Says he doesn't like her, holds still for her anyway
Mama
Asks after Pluis before asking about the exams
The wheel
What she's running on when he walks in, and after
Pluis15
LarsDaanMamaThe wheel
Pluis16
Pluis17
Forty grams, climbing like she weighs sixty kilos.
Pluis18
The Friday Call
Lars's mother calls every Friday, and the first time she asked after Pluis before asking how his exams went: 'And how is the little one?' Lars held the phone up against the glass of the tank so she could hear the wheel turning. Now she does it every Friday, exams forgotten until Pluis has been accounted for first.
Pluis19
The wheel, held up to a phone, every Friday.
Pluis20
On the edge of her tank, tongue out. This is the face when she smells a seed.
Pluis21
Hanging over the edge. She wants over, and then she is scared of the floor.
Pluis22
She stops, looks, and carries on.
Pluis23
Eleven at Night
Lars's day starts at eight. Pluis's starts at eleven at night. When he gets home from lectures, she is already in the wheel, running. She stops the moment he walks in, looks over to check it's him, and then carries on running, exactly as before, as if he had only imagined the pause.
Pluis24
Forty grams, and she climbs onto Lars's hand as if she weighed sixty kilos. The wheel still turns after eleven. The bags in the room are still not safe. Daan still says he doesn't like her, and still doesn't move his hand.
Pluis25
Second floor, Utrecht. The wheel keeps turning.
Pluis26
This book was made for Pluis, from the words and photos of the people who love Pluis.
bookofmypet.com

Pluis's book on one page

Read Luna's book

Made from 9 photos and the answers to the questions, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.

Luna
Luna
2009 – 2025
Luna
Luna
2009 – 2025
For Luna, 2009–2025.
Luna1
Breed
Moggy, long-haired
Lived with
Madeleine and Tom, and Rufus the dog
Spot
Any box, the bookcase, the yellow chair
Feared
The doorbell
Known for
Bringing home leaves, one at a time
Luna2
The kitchen floor at dinner time, staring until someone gave in.
Luna3
Ten to Six
At ten to six Luna sat on Tom's chest and stared. No sound. If that didn't work, one paw on the nose, claws out. Then she led the way to the kitchen and sat by the bowl as if she had been waiting there for hours, the same performance, every morning, until someone gave in.
Luna4
What the Cat Brought In
Never a mouse, not once in sixteen years. Instead, leaves, one at a time, laid on the doormat in a row. And once a whole slice of bread from the neighbours' bird table, carried home dry. She came through the flap with it flat in her mouth like a letter, set it on the kitchen floor, sat beside it and looked at them until Tom put it on a plate. She never ate it. The neighbours never knew.
Luna5
The doormat, laid out just so.
Luna6
Luna7
Hers by Right
Any box was Luna's the moment it arrived, claimed before it was even empty. Otherwise she took the top of the bookcase, where she could see the whole room and nobody could reach her, climbing up there until she was fifteen. The yellow chair in the kitchen was hers too, so completely that the household stopped sitting in it around 2012.
Luna8
The top of the cat tree. Nobody could reach her there and she knew it.
Luna9
After the Bell
The doorbell terrified her, not the visitors, the bell itself. At Christmas 2019, with twelve people in the house and the bell ringing eight times, she vanished and was not seen again until Boxing Day morning, back on the top shelf as if she had been there all along, as though nothing had happened and she had simply chosen to be there.
Luna10
The Quarterly Report
Luna got away with sleeping on the laptop keyboard while Tom worked. She was warm, and it made him stop typing. He wrote a whole quarterly report for the water board that way, forty pages, typing one-handed, leaning round her. Nothing about her made it into the report. The water board never noticed.
Luna11
Draped over the kitchen table, on the report Tom was writing.
Luna12
Luna13
Warm, and it stopped the typing.
Luna14
Rufus and Luna, both waiting for Tom's car. They pretended not to be.
Luna15
An Hour, Unmoving
The funniest thing she ever did: she fell asleep on the window sill, then slid off very slowly onto Rufus, who was asleep underneath. Neither of them stirred as she slid down, and neither woke once she landed. They stayed like that for a whole hour, the dog and the cat settled together in a heap, nobody moving, nobody minding, until at last they both woke on their own.
Luna16
Her pillow, and never the other way round.
Luna17
Who She Allowed Near
Luna let very few close, but Rufus the dog was one, and he let her use him as a pillow, though he never once got the same in return. Madeleine's mother was the other, allergic but visiting anyway, always with her own blanket, so Luna would sit on that instead of on her lap directly.
Luna18
Around Luna
Madeleine
Her owner, whose mother came with a blanket just for her.
Tom
Woke to her stare at ten to six, typed reports around her.
Rufus
The dog who let her sleep on him, and never complained.
Madeleine's mother
Allergic, but visited anyway, sneezing, blanket in hand.
Luna19
MadeleineTomRufusMadeleine's mother
Luna20
The window sill at four o'clock, when the birds come to the feeder.
Luna21
Between the cookbooks. She slept there through a whole dinner party.
Luna22
Luna23
Gone twenty minutes, back as if she'd never left.
Luna24
Sixteen years of leaves in a row on the doormat, boxes claimed before they were empty, a chair nobody else sat in again. The top shelf is still where the eye goes first when the doorbell rings. Rufus still sleeps in the same spot by the window, alone now.
Luna25
Luna, 2009–2025. Every box, always.
Luna26
This book was made for Luna, from the words and photos of the people who love Luna.
bookofmypet.com

Luna's book on one page

Read Bommel's book

Made from 6 photos and the answers to the questions, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.

Bommel
Bommel
2017 – 2025
Bommel
Bommel
2017 – 2025
For Bommel, who ran the house from under a desk.
Bommel1
Breed
Netherland dwarf, brown
Born
2017
Household
Joost, Anouk, Lieve and Sem
Loved
Dandelion leaves
Feared
The red vacuum cleaner
Real bed
Under Joost's desk, among cables
Bommel2
Seven o'clock, every morning
At seven he stood with his front paws against the wire of the run and thumped a back foot on the board. Once every ten seconds, until someone opened the door. Then he ran three laps of the kitchen and sat under the table, waiting there, quite still, for whatever came next in the morning, as though the running had settled something and now he could simply wait.
Bommel3
Once every ten seconds, until the door opened.
Bommel4
Spring 2018, the first time in the grass behind the house. He ate the dandelion in one go.
Bommel5
The sound that worked
The creak of the lid on the tub of dandelion leaves called him faster than anything. Not the fridge, not his own tub of pellets. He could be out in the garden, nose down in the grass, and still be inside within ten seconds of that creak, ready and waiting by the tub, as if he had heard it from another room entirely.
Bommel6
Two days under the desk, until the tub of dandelion leaves came out.
Bommel7
The red one
The vacuum cleaner terrified him, but only the red one. The old grey one could stand right next to him and he wouldn't move. When the new one arrived he spent two days under the desk. Anouk opened the tub of dandelion leaves and he came out, ate, looked at the red vacuum in the corner, and went back under. On the third day he stayed out.
Bommel8
On Joost's keyboard, in the middle of the meeting.
Bommel9
The letter k, forty-two times
He sat on Joost's keyboard during a video call and sent an email with his back foot: the letter k, forty-two times. Joost's boss replied, 'Ok.' Joost wrote back 'the rabbit' and nothing else. His boss replied 'Ok.' again. At the Christmas do that year, she asked how the rabbit was doing, and Joost had to explain the whole thing over again.
Bommel10
The look of surprise
Cables were his. Lieve's charger, the printer cable, and once the cable of the Christmas lights while they were still on. He was never told off for any of it, because he always looked so surprised, as if the cable had simply appeared in front of him and he hadn't asked for it at all, and nobody in the house could argue with a face like that.
Bommel11
He always looked so surprised.
Bommel12
Bommel13
Where he really slept
The hutch stood in the utility room, door open, mostly unused. Really he slept under Joost's desk, among the cables, where he fitted exactly and nobody could reach him. He also took the path to the shed, where Sem once left a piece of carrot and he carried it inside, and he worked through the dandelions in the grass, bottom up, ears above the leaves.
Bommel14
Who was who to Bommel
Joost
Owned the desk and keyboard Bommel claimed as his own.
Anouk
Kept the tub whose creaking lid always brought him running.
Lieve
Lost a charger cable to him and never got an apology.
Sem
Read to him every evening, even when he was asleep.
Milan
Neighbour who came Saturdays with a carrot, never came in.
Bommel15
JoostAnoukLieveSemMilan
Bommel16
Who loved him
Sem, reading aloud every evening
His school reading book
Milan from next door, every Saturday
A carrot, left at the door
Bommel17
Every evening, every Saturday
Sem read to him from his school reading book every evening, even when Bommel was already asleep. And Milan from next door stood at the door every Saturday with a carrot, and never wanted to come in. Two kinds of loyalty, both turning up on schedule, whether or not Bommel was awake to notice.
Bommel18
Words of the house
The tub
Dandelion leaves; the creak of its lid brought him running.
The red one
The vacuum he feared, unlike the old grey one.
His spot
Under Joost's desk, among cables, out of reach.
Ok
The boss's reply to an email of k's, typed forty-two times.
Bommel19
The tubThe red oneHis spotOk
Bommel20
Bommel21
The kitchen window sill, where he watched the rain.
Bommel22
He knew exactly that it meant something.
Bommel23
Finally on the sofa
He got to eight. In the last year he was allowed on the sofa, which he never had been before. He knew exactly that it meant something, and he took the spot the way he took the dandelion tub and the cables behind the desk: without hesitation, as if it had always been his.
Bommel24
He got to eight. Some evenings someone still checks the corner under the desk out of habit, cables and all. The lid of the dandelion tub still creaks the same way, and for a moment the kitchen waits for the sound of him coming in from the garden.
Bommel25
Bommel, 2017 – 2025
Bommel26
This book was made for Bommel, from the words and photos of the people who love Bommel.
bookofmypet.com

Bommel's book on one page

Read Fien's book

Made from 14 photos and the answers to the questions, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.

Fien
Fien
2019
Fien
Fien
2019
For Fien, who runs the household from a chair by the window.
Fien1
Breed
Long-haired dachshund
Born
2019
Lives with
Joris, Marloes, Teun and Bo
Loves
the beach, and the word for it
Fears
waves bigger than she is
Fien2
Morning, six o'clock, Sundays included.
Fien3
The sigh and the duvet
Six o'clock, Sundays included. Fien can't jump on the bed, so she stands next to it and sighs. Once. If nothing happens, she pulls at the duvet until it lands on the floor. Then she waits at the top of the stairs, because she only goes down if someone walks with her. One step at a time, front paws first, she checks over her shoulder that they are still behind her before she takes the last flight, straight to the chair by the window.
Fien4
The chair by the window
Officially, Fien sleeps in the basket in the utility room. Really, she sleeps in the wooden chair by the window, chin on the armrest, so she can see the street. Bo gets the basket. It has been hers since the first week, and nobody has managed to change that since.
Fien5
The chair by the window. Hers since the first week.""You'll never move me" she is not thinking, but might as well be.
Fien6
The tulips at Keukenhof. She wasn't allowed in and sat in front of them the whole time.
Fien7
The roses at grandma's. She sits in the middle and never touches one.
Fien8
This is the face when someone says the word 'beach'.
Fien9
The zip and the word
It isn't the door and it isn't the lead. It's the zip of Joris's coat. Fien can be asleep upstairs, and she is at the door before it's done up. Most days that zip means work, on the bike, and she stands there anyway. On Saturdays it means the beach, and she knows the difference by the bag he picks up. The word does the same job. Spell it out and she still comes running.
Fien10
Under the blossom in the park. She lay down under it and waited for us to come too.
Fien11
In Teun's buggy. She thinks that is where she belongs.
Fien12
After the ball, into the sea. She never brakes for the wave.
Fien13
Bigger than she is
Fien runs into the sea after the ball without a second thought. Then a wave comes, one bigger than she is, and she yelps and runs up the beach as fast as her legs will take her. Twenty seconds later she is back in, chasing the same ball into the same water, as if the wave had never happened at all.
Fien14
Saturday morning on the sofa. Bo yawns, she doesn't.
Fien15
Fien and Bo on the cushion that is Bo's.
Fien16
Fien17
The gull at Dishoek
On the beach at Dishoek, Fien chased a gull with the ball still in her mouth, right up until the gull turned round. She braked so hard she rolled straight over her own ears. Then she picked the ball back up and walked to the water as if that had been the plan all along.
Fien18
Autumn in the woods. She is watching a squirrel she is never going to get.
Fien19
After the beach. She sleeps until dinner, whatever happens.
Fien20
Teun combs her ears with his own comb.
Fien21
Who loves her, and how
Teun combs Fien's ears with his own comb. Grandpa Wim comes on Fridays with, as he puts it, nothing on him, and a bag of liver sausage in his inside pocket. And Bo, her brother, sleeps next to her and takes her spot on the cushion the moment she gets up in the night. Each of them shows it differently, and Fien seems to know exactly which is which.
Fien22
Fien23
She only goes down if someone walks with her.
Fien24
The ear still turns inside out after a run. Someone puts it right, and she shakes it round again. Six o'clock still comes, Sundays included, and she still waits at the top of the stairs for company down.
Fien25
Fien, who checks you're still behind her.
Fien26
This book was made for Fien, from the words and photos of the people who love Fien.
bookofmypet.com

Fien's book on one page

What is inside

The typed answer

How does the day start?

Quarter to six. He doesn't bark. He stands next to the bed and breathes on whichever face is nearest, until that person gives up. Then he walks ahead to the kitchen as if it was his idea.

The page in the book

Whichever Face Is Nearest
Max doesn't bark. At quarter to six he stands next to the bed and breathes on whichever face is nearest, patiently, until that person gives up and gets up. There is no rush in it, no whining, just that steady breathing until someone moves. Then he walks ahead of them to the kitchen, as if the whole thing, the getting up and the going down, was entirely his own idea.
Max3
Every morning the same: he wins without making a sound.
Max4

What it costs

The questions are free. Having the eBook made costs €6.99.

eBook€6.99

On screen and to download. €6.99, paid after the questions.

eBook + hardcover€34.99

Ordered from your eBook. 20 × 20 cm, 28 pages, hard cover. €27.99, shipping included. €34.99 together with the eBook. Delivered in the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany and France.

Gift€34.99

The eBook and the hardcover, shipping included. Or the eBook alone for €6.99. The recipient makes the book themselves. Valid one year.

Give the gift

Reviews

★★★★★

Very cool! My pet Nasos seems to love the artwork and story of it too!

September 24, 2026. On Trustpilot

These are the reviews our Trustpilot profile holds. We show all of them and choose none.

Questions

What is bookofmypet.com?

bookofmypet.com makes a 28-page book, 20 × 20 cm, about one dog, cat or other pet, written from the owner's answers to eight short questions and illustrated with up to fourteen of their photos and with drawings. The book is on screen and to download about ten minutes after payment, in English, Dutch or German, and can be printed as a hardcover. It is a service of Solid Software B.V. in Utrecht, the Netherlands.

What does it cost?

The eBook costs €6.99, paid after the questions, with no account. The hardcover costs €27.99 including shipping and is ordered from the eBook, so €34.99 for both. A gift, the eBook and the hardcover for someone who makes the book themselves, costs €34.99.

How long does it take, and where does the hardcover go?

The eBook is ready about ten minutes after payment. The hardcover is printed by Gelato near the delivery country and usually arrives about two weeks after the order, in any case within thirty days, with a tracking link by email when it ships. It ships to the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany and France, and shipping is included.

What if I don't know what to answer?

The questions are about ordinary things: where they sleep, what they steal, the sound that makes them run. Short answers are enough, and you can skip any question. The more you tell, the more it sounds like them.

How is the writing made?

The words are drafted from your answers by an AI model working under a fixed brief: nothing invented, no clichés. You read and change every line before anything is printed.