Teddy likes his beddie!

The Boss's advice on writing was that it was good, at least to start with, to write about something you know, so I'm going to write about my bed as I'm very familiar with it. Actually, to be more accurate, I should say beds, as I've got four.
          When I first came to live with 'Them Indoors' I brought my bed from my previous home. It was was rather large, about Labrador size, which would be fine if I was a Labrador. 'Them Indoors' have a relatively small kitchen, and I took up an impressive amount of floor space for a fairly small dog, so after a respectable interval, I was bought a smaller version and my old, big one, was donated to the local dog rescue centre.
         The Boss was struggling because of senior arthritis, to clamber out of his bed, so 'Her Indoors' decided to get him a memory foam cushion to help him out a bit. I'm not saying she's cheapskate, but having costed these, she decided she could make one for a fraction of the price so she bought an off-cut. She also made the Boss a bolster, to go around the sides of his bed, so that he had something comfy to rest his head on. Now, fortunately for me, not wanting to show favouritism, I also got a new mattress and a bolster, so I have probably the best bed in the entire dog world.
          'Her Indoors' has, however, been a victim of her own success. My bed is so nice that I never want to leave it, and, in the morning, I refuse to budge. She's tried coxing, sounding bright and enthusiastic, bribing me with treats, going outside herself and waiting for me to appear; nothing works. The only way she can get me out of bed is to fasten my lead on and 'encourage' me up. Even then, if she gets distracted, looking for her coat or putting her boots on, I sneak back in and have to be evicted for a second time.
          I've also got a special bed in 'Her Indoors' office. It's my crate from my previous home. A dog trainer suggested that making this a cosy, safe place might help with my separation anxiety, and that I should be encouraged to stay in it when 'Her Indoors' goes inside to make a cup of tea, and rewarded if, instead of pacing anxiously, I'm still in it when she returns. This has worked up to a point, but what I sometimes do is pace anxiously, then scuttle back into my crate when I hear the back door go, so that I can get praising and treats too. She hasn't a clue bless her!
          Anyway, the unadorned crate in her office, offended her eye, so she's made a cover in nice lined fabric. It has roll-up sides so that in the hot weather I can have some additional ventilation. It also has bunting with my name on, a water bowl that fastens to the side, and a comfy cushion to lie on, and I love it. When she has students or colleagues visiting, I pop out to say hello, and then, when they do the boring talky stuff, I retreat back in for a little nap. What could be nicer?
          'Them Indoors' have got a camper van, and they bought me my third bed to go in there. It was carefully chosen to fit between the front cab seats and there is an anchoring point to attach my harness to when we are going along, to keep my safe. At night, the parallel sofas make up into a double bed, which means I'm right next to 'Her Indoors' -  perfect! It also means that if I need to check up on 'Him Indoors' I can scoot under the bed and pop up like a jack-in-the-box on the other side.
          This bed has proved such a success that they bought one for the house, so that in the evening, I've got a nice cushion to lie on in the lounge. If they go upstairs into the attic room to watch the big TV, the cushion also fits nicely between their beanbags so I can have cosy viewing. Most nights I get so comfy there I refuse to vacate in order to do my late-night garden visit, and we have a repeat of the morning walk efforts, in order to get me outside for a very reluctant wee.
          My keenness to stay put is actually a compliment to 'Them Indoors' for providing me with such comfortable arrangements. The word 'spoilt' has been mentioned in close conjunction with 'dog' but I think that's a bit harsh, I'm just a Teddy who like his beddie (s)!

My original big bed, being monopolised by the Boss!

My lounge bed

The Boss snuggling on his memory foam cushion with his bolster

I feel like I'm being watched....

Snuggling on my own memory foam cushion with bolster

My office crate with cover and matching accessories

Scooting under the big bed and popping up the other side in the campervan

My campervan bed between the seats

Following in Big Paw Prints

I loved the Boss. He accepted me into his life at the point when I most needed him. As the incumbent Border Terrier, he had the casting vote, and he welcomed me, if not with open paws, with very little in the way of senior grumbling. True, he made it clear from the outset who was in charge, but after all, it was his family, his kitchen and his garden. He pinched my bed, my toys and my food, but in return he taught me the fine art of disobedience and saved me from being a 'yes' fur. He didn't expect me to be like him; but he celebrated my individual subversiveness, like my bid for the big bed, my obsession with Ben, the Leonburger next door, and my talent for noxious emissions of an eye-watering, building evacuation strength.
          He was a very senior fur when I first met him. His walks were very short and I would wait for him as he read the peemail and pootled about. He loved his buggy and I would accompany him as his outrider on our morning walks. He showed me who to tap up for treats and who to bark at, very important things. In return I like to think that I helped him out a bit. I could hear things he couldn't, so I could signal when to bark. I was also his bodyguard and I defended him against other dogs, plastic bags blowing in the wind, anyone who looked a bit funny and other such grave dangers. I also provided him with a furry towel to dry his face on and a source of additional food, particularly at the outset when I was pining for my previous humum, Sandra.
          At the end, after his final visit to the Vets, 'Them Indoors' brought him home and put him in his bed in the kitchen so that I could say my final goodbyes. He was a great fur, a subversive role model, and he gave me everything he had, 'Them Indoors'.
          He also left me his literary legacy, but he understood I was my own fur. So although I inherit his magazine column and our half finished book, 'A Dog with Two Tales', I feel I have the artistic freedom to strike out for myself. I'm not the Boss, but I carry his proud legacy forward. I'm a bed loving, people focused, Leonburger hating, Campervan liking Border Terrier, and I hope you will follow me on my journey and make my blog as popular as the Bosses. It should be fun...!

Me and the Boss

I just didn't have his staying power.....

On walks together

The Boss's amazing books - if you haven't got them, why not?

The Boss, pinching my bed!

And me, settling in my own bed