Eddie as in Edgy

I spent the first year of my life in Northern California.

Although I was born in relaxed California, I'm not exactly the most relaxed dog. Intelligent, yes. Laid back? Not by a long shot.

My feeling is how do you know for sure that people who approach you aren't out to take your kibble or worse, dognap you? I must say it can do a number on the self esteem of otherwise secure people. They enter my house as self-assured doglovers and leave shaking their head as to how I didn't let them get within five feet of me.

If you didn't know better, you'd think I was abused. But the truth is that I was born this way. The old man has had me since I was eight weeks old and never done a thing untoward to me. I actually went to therapy for a short time when I was about five after I started chasing and nibbling on the ankles of people who came up behind me by surprise. Following therapy, I would always receive a treat whenever strangers approached so that I'd supposedly equate strangers with good things. It worked marginally.

Alas, I've learned to accept myself as I am. And I think Mr. Bill has as well.

And On the Topic of Snow...

Fruits of Mr. Bill's labor keep the backyard interesting in winter.

Tonight's snow -- which, by the way, is covering all traces of rabbit poop, a frozen delicacy this time of year -- harkens back to many great memories I've had in the winter wonderland. In particularly snowy winters, Mr. Bill has carved out quite intricate mazes for me to traverse in the yard. I rather enjoy it, as I've always been an athletic dog and once excelled in agility class (perhaps more on that another day).

It's a little odd to see a middle-aged man, shovel in hand (he does not own a snow blower, which would make things much easier), digging to China through feet-high snow. But that's what he does. Here's an example of his handiwork and my incredible athleticism (and I was about 80 when this was filmed). Enjoy!

Shortcomings

I've got to be honest with you. I'm short. There, I said it. You were probably wondering anyway but were too kind to ask.

To be sure, I'm not as short as if I were one hundred percent Dachshund or had any of that miniature variety in me. Bill likes to tell people that "next to a regular dog, he looks like a dachshund, while next to a dachshund, he looks like a regular dog." You get the picture.

The annual snowstorm mug shot.

Tonight, we're having a little snowstorm here in Minnesota.  As the snow begins to pile up, it's hard to get away from the fact that I don't have the clearance of an 18-wheeler, and I must count on master to clear a path for me in the backyard. Perhaps there is no other way to assess the devotion of an owner than to see how regularly he shovels snow from the tundra for his height-challenged dog. I've got no complaints there. My heinie always stays dry.