Meet Eddie. He is of mystery breed and origin and to be honest, I’m not sure if he grasps simple basic concepts of his role in our household. Concepts like that I’m his loving adoptive mother; that I adore him and only want the best for him; and importantly that I can always win tug-of-war but choose to let him win because of that huge amount of love I have for him.
What he does understand is that I am the purveyor of fine foods and that there is a portal to the outside world of which he must attack and bark at anyone who passes the portal. This portal, commonly known as our front door, gives Eddie an employed position, and he takes his role very seriously. When a car pulls up near that door, he must awake from a deep sleep, launch himself into the air and seemingly race Usain Bolt to the portal to bark blue bloody murder in order to protect me and our family…possibly so the fine foods do not stop being purveyed.
Something Eddie however does confuse, is that not all doors are portals and not all doors must be guarded by his tiny 5 kilogram frame. For example, when I go to the backyard and return through one of these swinging portals only a few seconds later, Eddie feels that the arrival must be announced. So he does. Announce it. Loudly.
But although the excitement of the announcement should possibly be commended by our family, as one day it could actually be an alarm or warning that we need; generally on a day-to-day basis, it is just annoying. We wince at the high-pitched cacophony until we finally get up off our asses and assess the cause.
So, in the end, we don’t sweat the small stuff. He really adds so much more life to our life that we are prepared to overlook the way he has chosen to stay gainfully employed. He is our soldier of misfortune. He is Eddie.
Lisa Wright - Writer 
Leave a comment