As much as I love my family, and trust me, I do, they can be Shockingly obtuse sometimes.
Take the beds.
This past year they bought me two, count them, two beds! Of course, I was fine in their beds, but they discouraged it. Go figure.
The first bed went upstairs, where they sleep. Well located, I could rest and see down the hallway and all the doorways and stairs. A good, strategic place for a guard dog, moi.
Then they moved it. Wedged between the bottom of the adult’s bed and the wall I could see nothing,
not the door,
not the hall,
not the stairs.
The situation was untenable and I disdained to lie on such an ill-placed bed, instead enduring significant discomfort lying where they used to keep the bed.
Some might’ve expected my decision to sleep on the floor Where The Bed Used To Be would be enough of a hint for my family to move the bed Back to Where It Belonged. Alas, this did not happen. The bed remained neglected and unused.
One thing I will not tolerate is when the man steps on my tail when he gets out of bed in the middle of the night. To paraphrase A.A. Milne’s character Eeyore, to him it’s just a little bit extra at the back, but I am sort of attached to it. But I digress.
Then a Second bed appeared. Again, clearly a bed for me; although the man did curl up on it once. That’s OK, I like his scent and I’m fine with sharing. After much moving it around, they finally stumbled upon the ideal location. I’d like to give them credit for careful thought and consideration, but, unfortunately, I do believe it was just dumb luck.
Bed number 2 has a prime view of the front door, the stairs to the second floor and, if I crane my neck, I can catch a glimpse of someone entering through the back. Eureka! From the lap of luxury, lying on a softly cushioned pillow, I can keep tabs on all the comings and goings.
Of course, I like variety. During the day I rotate through my spots: the sofa on the back porch, the sofa in the living room, under the dining room table, and the kitchen floor. Then, as night begins to fall, I settle on my downstairs bed, patiently waiting until the family finds its way upstairs. Only then do I retreat to the upstairs bed. Knowing that everyone is safe in their rooms, I feel comfortable sleeping on what I have come to think of as the Hidden Bed.
In the morning, I make an effort, to get up early and make it downstairs to monitor their early perambulations, but sometimes the woman, she is an early riser, beats me to it and I feel her stumbling past my bed as she gets dressed. Those mornings I wait and escort her downstairs when she’s ready so we can make a smooth transition outside for our constitutional.
It took a while, but with patience, creativity, and a bit of luck we’ve figured out how to make it all work with the two-bed solution: luxury and comfort without sacrificing vigilance.