He doesn't bark. He breathes on whichever face is nearest, until that person gives up.
A book about the life your dog, cat or pet actually lives
The socks they steal. The spot they sleep. The sound that makes them run. A book of all of it.
Read Bommel's book
Made from 6 photos and seven answers, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.
BommelSeven 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
On Joost's keyboard, in the middle of the meeting. Bommel9The 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
Bommel13Where 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.
Bommel14He 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
Read Fien's book
Made from 14 photos and seven answers, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.
FienThe 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
Teun combs her ears with his own comb. Fien21Who 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.
Fien22The 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
Read Luna's book
Made from 9 photos and seven answers, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.
Luna
The kitchen floor at dinner time, staring until someone gave in. Luna3Ten 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.
Luna4What 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
Luna7Hers 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.
Luna8Sixteen 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
Read Max's book
Made from 9 photos and seven answers, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.
MaxThe 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
Half past eight, when the sun is off the lawn. Max11
The corner where he sits, whether they are turning back or not. Max12Quarter to seven 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
Read Mo's book
Made from 8 photos and seven answers, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.
MoWhat 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
Mo9Stuck 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
He no longer fits back there. He goes anyway. Mo17The 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.
Mo18The 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
Read Pluis's book
Made from 3 photos and seven answers, in about ten minutes. 28 pages, 20 × 20 cm.
PluisThe 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. Pluis6On 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. Pluis22Forty 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
How it works
- Type their name and choose one photo. The cover appears as you type.
- Answer seven short questions. Skip any you like. Add photos; each one gets a question. Then pay €6.99.
- About ten minutes later the book is ready. Read it, change any page, order the hardcover.
Reviews
★★★★★
Wonderful idea and beautifully done! Ordering was easy, the quality is great and the result is really personal. Clearly recommended!
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Prices
Digital book€6.99
The book on screen and as a PDF. €6.99, paid after the questions.
Hardcover add-on€29.99
Ordered from your digital book. 20 × 20 cm, 28 pages, hard cover. €29.99, shipping included.
Gift€36.99
The digital book and the hardcover, shipping included. The recipient makes the book themselves. Valid one year.
Questions
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.
Can I change what it says?
Yes. Every page can be changed. Edit the words, rewrite a page with a note, swap a photo, swap a photo for a drawing, draw an illustration again.
How many photos do I need?
One is enough. Up to fourteen fit, large in the book. Where there are fewer photos, we draw your pet instead.
Can I show the book to someone?
Yes. The book page makes a share link. Anyone with it reads the whole book on their phone and cannot change it. You can stop the link at any time.
Can I make one for someone else's pet?
Yes. You need photos of their pet and the things only someone who knows the animal can tell. Afterwards you pass on the private link, and they can change any page themselves.
Can I give it as a gift without making the book myself?
Yes. You buy a gift for €36.99: the digital book and the hardcover, shipping included. The recipient gets a link, unwraps it and makes the book about their own pet. You can print a card, or have it emailed on a day you choose.
Also for a pet that has died?
Yes. Write in the past tense and the book does the same. It stays a book about what they did, not about the end.
What happens to the photos?
They are used to make your book and deleted a year after it is ready. Two mails come before then, and one click keeps the book another year. Nothing else.
Not answered here? Ask in the chat at the bottom right, or write to support@solid-soft.nl. Ask a question