The Best Behaving Boy in the House.

Look at him! That is our Eddie. He's not a dog. He's a doll. It is such a cruel blow from nature that he will not see me into old age. I read a quote somewhere that said, "Dogs lives are so short. Their only fault really." Oh, I've met a few little yappy dogs whose kind always seem to find themselves in Hollywood's handbags. That is not the kind of dog I am talking about. Get a cat. I like big, kind eyed dogs. Eddie. Eddie is all that.

When we finally purchased our own home I set my sights on getting a dog. My husband, Fabio was less than enthusiastic. Would I feed a dog? Would I walk a dog? Yes and yes and furthermore- Pa-lah-ease. What was I? Twelve? I had owned dogs before Fabio arrived in my orbit.

I wanted to get a dog when the boys were still little. Owen was three and Enzo was 18 months old. I needed to start looking. I wasn't planning to bring home the first dog I saw (unless he or she was perfect). I had a list of pre-requisites a mile long.
I did not want to get stuck with a dog who was -well-not Eddie just for the sake of having a dog. I took my time. I mean really took my time. Owen was almost six when we spotted Eddie.

The boys and I had been going down to the Providence Animal League (PAL) about three or four times a month for almost two years. We kept coming up Pit Bulls. Sorry. No can do. Too risky. Yeah, yeah, I have met some really swell Pit Bulls but they can't come in my house and I don't let my children near them.

We had all but given up our dream of finding the perfect dog. We took a break. A few months later the boys and I went to The Providence Children's Museum. Owen remembered just how close the pound was to the museum and suggested that we have another look. On our way home we made yet another of what I had begun to refer to as "Pit (Bull) stops". We entered, I was cautiously pessimistic. Owen, Enzo, and I walked straight past the cats (we had one of those) and opened the door that led to the outside cages. All three of us never failed to start upon entering. It was always so doggone loud.

After we adjusted to all the singing of those poor caged birds we began to make our rounds. The first one looked sick and kind of mangy. Sorry little guy I have the kids now-maybe some young altruistic twentysomething can help you out because you are so cute. Yes you are. Yes you are. The next one was a Pit Bull, oh and another Pit Bull followed by a Pit Bull. Pit Bull. Pit Bull. Pit Bull. Floyd. OMG. Beautiful Floyd. Floyd? That's what his paperwork said. Floyd looked at me with the sweetest brown eyes. Were they locking up deer now? No. Floyd was a dog. His eyes pleaded with me like no dog eyes I had ever seen.




I fell madly in love. We all did, Floyd included. It was instantaneous. Just like that. Floyd was our dog. We had to do something about his name but we were not going to go home without him. I grabbed his paperwork and brought it to the front desk. Before they had me fill anything out or money was exchanged they ushered us into a room for a private meet and greet. Floyd was brought in , he walked directly to me, where he sat and offered his paw. That did it, obviously. He could have ended his interview right then. That dog had the job. The kids loved him. I loved him. He was perfect. I mean just PERFECT. OMG. What a score. He is one in a million.

I must be the luckiest gal on earth because I had another dog just like him when I lived in Athens, Georgia.





I swear Eddie is my Elroy come back to me. They are practically the same dog. Dog owners have openly envied me for years. My dogs are always a little better behaved, a little better looking and usually way more loyal than most. I don't know how I get so lucky. I had Elroy for seven years and Eddie has been with us for six. Elroy was a German Shepherd/Collie/ St. Bernard mix with the best and brightest temperament. I miss that boy daily.





Then came Maude. Eddie is a German Shepherd /Labrador Retriever. When we first met Floyd I asked the kids to think of a better name. Owen and Enzo really liked three of the shopguys down at the corner bodega. Their names were Tony, Vinnie and Eddie. I must admit I was sort of pushing for "Tony" or "Vinnie" because I thought it would be a riot to name our dog something over the top Italian. Our neighborhood is predominately Italian with the exception of me- the Irish infiltrator. Maybe having little Vinnie or Tony along side Fabio, Owen Angelo, and Enzo seemed a little too contrived even for Enzo.

Floyd was found on the mean streets of Pawtucket, RI He never really responded to Floyd (and we tried twice). He was always obedient and never ignored anyone but it was so obvious that this boy had not been named "Floyd" for a long time. During our private meet and greet Enzo stood across the room and called "Eddie!" . He said that he had just been testing that name first. Floyd's head shot around like he had heard a ghost. He went straight to Enzo. Nuts. To this day Eddie responds to the sound of his name like a bolt of lightening. He came to us fully trained.

I did catch him lapping milk from the boys cereal bowls after they had gone to school (and failed to bring their dishes to the sink). He is still a dog after all. He just gives me more of an incentive to clear the table in a timely manner. Good old Eddie.




Eddie had passed the interview process with flying colors. We walked our new dog to the front desk and asked where we should sign.I thought that it would be a quick transaction. I would give them $90.00 and they would give me the dog. I had purchased one of their leashes. Not so fast. I had to laugh when the receptionist brightly told me that a "complimentary" neuter was included in the $90.00 fee. How is that complimentary? What now? As amused as I was by all of the slip talk, it still meant that we were not walking out with our dog.

I had placed all of my money on the table and only received a promissory note in return. Of course we felt a bit cheated and it was a bummer of a car ride home. Poor Eddie, did he think that these nice people who had visited with him earlier-and seemed to love him so- had spearheaded this painful procedure? What a bunch of jerks we had turned out to be.

Fabio didn't even know that we were on the hunt for a dog. He may have had some vague memory of me mentioning my desire for the perfect family dog a few years back. By that time I had gotten completely blase about my quest for the Holy Grail because that dog was not out there. I was not expecting to find Mr. Perfect. I had so many requirements. He had to be from the pound.He had to be a dog, not a puppy. He had to be somewhat trained. I wanted a medium sized dog with some German Shepherd in him. I shouldn't keep saying "he" because a bitch with all of these traits would have been just fine. Eddie possessed and still possesses all of these attributes. As icing on the cake he also possesses dashing good looks. He is perfect- except for the 8 weeks a year during which he sheds. We call him "Sheddie" and he walks around in a constant state of contrition. What a love.


We arrived home, dog owners on paper. We just lacked the tangible evidence. I heard Fabio's truck pull up at around 5:30 PM. I was planning to wait to announce the new arrival. I thought it would be better to have Eddie sitting there, as a visual aid, if you will. I was quite certain that if Fabio was looking at Eddie when he heard the news he would not be able to resist him. Fabio would thank me over and over. My husband had a soul after all.

The boys were ready to burst and could not contain themselves. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that a five year old and a three year old might not be privy to the same restraint that I so readily employed. Fabio hadn't even put down his lunch pail before he was pelted with a litany of our current events.

"WE BOUGHT A DOG!"

"HIS NAME WAS FLOYD BUT WE CHANGED IT TO EDDIE!"

"MOM PAID NINETY DOLLARS!"

"WE CAN'T GET HIM UNTIL TOMORROW!"

"HE'S KIND OF BIG!"

"I LOVE HIM!"

"I LOVE HIM TOO!"





"MOM.DID.WHAT? LUCY!"

"Oh hi dear. You're home. How was your day?"

"LUCY!"



"I swear. I swear. I swear. You are going to love him. Trust me. He is perfect. He is medium sized and I swear to God and all His Heaven.THIS.DOG.IS.PERFECT."

"Where is he?"

"Getting neutered when he should be getting cloned."

"How long did you spend with him?"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes and you are sure that he is perfect."

"POSITIVELY POSITIVE"

Eddie wasn't some rash heat of the moment 'we must have a dog now' acquisition. I had been actively looking for HIM for years- and to this day (over 6 years later) I cannot believe that I found him .

The funniest word I have ever heard someone use to describe my husband is "mellow". I spent our one night as dogless dog owners listening to Fabio change his mind over and over. He would allow a little excitement to creep in. He would shake his head in a good natured resigned to the situation kind of way. He would laugh and say, "This Eddie better be perfect."

Then he would go into the bathroom. I always braced myself when he would enter that room and shut the door. That is where he thinks. This time he wasn't really thinking, it seemed that he was in there collecting his worse case scenarios. He always emerged from the bathroom apprehensive and a little annoyed with me for making what he deemed to be a hasty decision.

I had explained my side to him as pointedly as I could. Over and over I told my husband that Eddie was not a decision made in haste. Eddie was more of a very well thought out executive decision. A master plan. Eddie was paramount to the well being of all of us. Fabio would totally understand when he met Eddie. I was sure of it.

Fabio tortured me all night. He wouldn't intentionally wake me up but his heavy sighs and "HE. BETTER. BE. PERFECT." was uttered more than once through the course of the night. When we woke up the next morning (as if any of us got any sleep) Fabio had already gone off to work. He had left a note for us on the kitchen table. It had one word. "PERFECT" it was underlined three times. He also drew his signature heart so I knew his mind was open. He'd see. I was absolutely confident. Perfect. Exactly. What a perfect word to describe Eddie.




The boys and I prepared for Eddie's arrival. We went out and bought a big bag of dog food and a dog bed. I already had two really cute dog dishes that I had purchased years ago for just such an occasion. Amazingly enough I knew exactly where they were. That was obviously a sign.


We put his new bed in the boys room, not that he ever uses it.






We were told by the people at the pound that "Floyd(!)" would be ready by noon. We took a chance and arrived at 11:50 AM. He was ready to come home! He was so happy to see us. The lady who handed him over to us told me how glad she was that he had found a home. He had been there for almost ninety days and was on the short list for you know what. How horribly close we had come to being ships in the night. Eddie must have known. He had pleaded with me with such intensity when we first met. He looked desperate and vulnerable- yet strong and able. Eddie should be a character actor.



Whew! What a save. I cannot believe that in the short time we had taken a break from our active search for a suitable family dog that Eddie had arrived at The Providence Animal League. Not only had Eddie arrived, he was passed over ...FOR MONTHS? Eddie? How could anyone pass by his cage- look into his soulful eyes- and not be moved to request his immediate dismissal? It took me- what? half a minute? No kidding. I took one look at that face and said, "Oh Yeah. This is our boy."


We brought him home and introduced him to our cat, Elroy (who was named for you know who.) Our cat barely gave him the time of day. Our cat was far more interested in our fish, Ranger.




They never really got a long- Eddie and Elroy, the cat. They tolerated each other but it wasn't an epic friendship. Poor Elroy got hit by a car and died a few years ago. Rest in Peace little Elroy.




DUMDAHDUMDUMDUM. QUITTING TIME! Don't think that I wasn't looking at the clock. Fabio was making his way home through the streets of Providence. He was anxiously awaiting his introduction to to the world's most perfect dog. (There had been a bit of a build up.)

When Fabio walked in Eddie began to bark. We had never heard his bark before. He has an awfully loud bark. He barked at Fabio for quite a while. The hair on his back stood at attention. He alternated between a deep and menacing growl and a riot of barking as Fabio inched in further..

My husband was completely unimpressed. I barely heard his, "YOU CALL THIS PERFECT?" oven the din of Eddie. The boys and I got Eddie to calm down only to watch him become strange, sullen and skittish in Fabio's presence. What the? Come on Eddie, give us a smile. Honestly, Eddie. Where did you go?

"This is Mr. Perfect?"

"I swear, Fabio, he is." I looked sternly at Eddie who returned my stare with his sweetest, most loving expression. Fabio saw him. It took months for Eddie to really acknowledge Fabio as an ally. Despite the chilly reception the man of the house worked doggedly to get into Eddie's good graces. Fabio was keenly aware of how loving Eddie was to his wife and children. He wanted some.

We think the pet lamb may have been abused by a man when he was a pup. He was so fearful of men for months. All men. He would continually cuddle up with the women and children all the while keeping a marked distance from the men folk.

Poor Eddie. I had a vision in my head of his old life. He had been living in a third floor walk up with a mean, fat, unhealthy man whose wife had just left him. She probably took up with another barfly. Eddie was her dog. This guy didn't even like Eddie. He didn't like dogs at all. The only attention that he ever gave poor Eddie was to call him over and then hit him with his shoe. He trained him. OMG did he train him. We reaped all the benefits of Eddie's miserable youth. His manners are impeccable. I will give you a few examples if I may.

Recently Eddie had been nursing a sore foot for a couple of days. He was refusing to put his foot down. I could see that it was getting better, otherwise it would be off to the vet for dear Eddie. Eddie does not like to go to the vet. We were waiting and seeing. Early in the morning on the final day of his limp he was still being stubborn. Nature called and he stumbled downstairs and outside. He pooped and went straight back to his bed of pain.

Later on that morning I went into the kitchen to prepare the boys their breakfast. I noticed that Eddie's bowls were still untouched and had been for a couple of days. He had seemed weak. I made the boys some french toast and brought Eddie his breakfast in bed. I put the bowls in front of him and went to fold laundry in my room. I heard him crunching away and then I heard him lap water for awhile. A few minutes later I could see Eddie hobbling toward me. I said, "Eddie!" That boy came over to me and kissed me on the cheek and turned around and went back to bed. Honest to dog. I may have cried. I had never seen anything sweeter.

He won't make a mess either (except during shedding season). On the Sunday morning after we got Eddie- Fabio, the boys and I ran around doing errands. It was a gorgeous day. Fabio had been working a lot and it was rare when the four of us got together for hours at a time. I am ashamed to admit this- I had totally forgotten that we had a dog when Fabio suggested a Sunday drive to Connecticut via back roads. Eddie must have slipped the boys mind too. They knew that Sunday drives inevitably culminated with dinner out. They were all for this turn of events.

I am quite sure that none of us willfully dismissed Eddie in favor of crossing state lines. Of course not. It is just that he was such a new arrival- and he was so calm and quiet (apart from the terrible noises that escaped his screwed up face whenever Fabio appeared on the scene.)For the better part of most days Eddie just blended into the dynamic of the household.He was ever present looking gorgeous and good but he was quiet.

What started as a quick trip to Benny's to buy bike helmets and batting gloves turned into an all day excursion. If I had remembered true love waiting at home I could have turned that car around - no questions asked. We had a great day touring the back alleys of Connecticut and Rhode Island. We took a hike and we had a leisurely dinner. As we neared home I reminded the boys that Owen had school the next day and that it would be straight to bed when we got home. I emphasized the fact that it was already past their bed time.

That is when it hit me. EDDIE! When I said "EDDIE!" out loud the entire carload of us shrieked- even Fabio , who was still being iced out by the mutt. He looked at me and said, "We fail as dog owners." and stepped up the gas a little.

My visions of Eddie's old life haunted me. I was sure that he thought we had abandoned him. It was awful. I remembered making a point to go around a turn off every single light in the house. That poor dog was alone with a cat who didn't care for him at all. He was in a new place and it was dark. What had we done? The love!

Fabio pulled into the driveway and I dove for his keys as soon as he took them out of the ignition. I ran up to the front door and fumbled in the dark cursing away at the sheer callousness of our actions. I finally got the damn door open- it seemed to take forever. It actually took a lot longer than usual because I had refused to calm down. By the time I had finally unlocked the door Fabio had already retrieved a sleeping Enzo from his car seat and had joined Owen behind me on the steps. I was a wreck. We burst into the house all of us screaming "EDDIE!" at the top of our lungs. This time having absolutely no regard for Enzo who awoke with a start.

Eddie usually responds to the sound of his name like an Olympic athlete responds to the sound of gunfire. Nothing. He was staying put. Owen said, "I think he is dead." I didn't think he was dead but I thought that he might be mad at us and I didn't blame him. We tried again (sorry Enzo). I heard a faint whimper coming from upstairs. It was followed by a very low and very short bark (probably intended for Fabio). I turned on the hall light and started up the stairs. I could see him. He was in the bathroom, perched over Elroy's litter box taking a dump. Stop it!
We must have arrived home mid poop because that is about the only thing that can keep Mr. Perfect from racing toward the sound of his name. Eddie.

Eddie knows every command in the book. Sit. Shake. Go. Come. Eddie goes to his room when you say, "Eddie go to your room." It is Fabio's favorite party trick. When we have people over for dinner Eddie will inevitably linger a little too long at the table. Our guests sometimes become uncomfortable with his plaintiff stares. Fabio will say, "Eddie, go to your room." Eddie will look at him with his big brown eyes fixed in a pained expression and walk out of the room. We can hear him make his way up the stairs and land with a thud on his bed that is directly above the kitchen table. Everyone is always so impressed. Fabio tries to act all cool but there is no masking his obvious pride. At least ONE of his sons obeys orders.

Eddie is right here next to me as I sit extolling his virtues. It is finally getting hot outside and he is shedding like no dog I have ever seen. I am pretty sure Elroy was never THIS bad. There is the possibility that I just didn't notice it given my very rustic living arrangements when El and I were a team. Back then I had no children and I hardly ever cooked. Hair could fly under the radar unscrutinized much more easily.

Eddie has huge tufts of hair hanging on by a thread They are ready to fall on my freshly vacuumed floor. If there was a way to just become a vacuum cleaner during this trying time of year I would. Poor Eddie, I don't allow him to be pet inside during shedding season. I know my rule is ignored- the boys leave evidence. There is no one more apologetic than Eddie. He has a look that he reserves for this time of year. That look is the look of GUILT. It is unmistakable. He only gives it in May and June.


It is hilarious. I feel badly for him but I have no time to comfort him due to incessant use of the vacuum cleaner. If I don't vacuum two- sometimes three- times a day we would all choke. It is unimaginable unless you live here. Fabio and the boys don't even realize it because I am so on top of it. I just go up and down the stairs with the bloody vacuum all day long. They think I have OCD but they just don't know. Why would I only have OCD for one month a year anyway? It is crazy. Hair is flying everywhere. It reminds me of tumbleweeds on the prairie. Eddie is well aware that he is the culprit. His guilty look is priceless. The minute he sees the vacuum his expression turns to, "Oh no- here we go. I am sorry. I am sorry."
I wish that I could pet him. I do bring him outside and brush him. I feed him extra salmon. None of those Vermont home remedies are working. I vacuum, all day long.

He really is worth the six to eight weeks of fur flying hell. He and Fabio have become tight.

Fabio is in love with him and thanks me DAILY. No kidding- I mean really- Fabio thanks me all the time. I think he thanks me every time he SEES Eddie. It is hard not to. Eddie is a pleasure to see. I am always happy to see Eddie. Steady Eddie. We call him "The Best Behaving Boy in the House". Mr. Perfect.

I keep trying to end my little story about Eddie but I can't seem to stop. I am going to end here. I could go on.