Guardian

BENSON was a good dog by some standard. He meant so much to my wife to the extent that he had a negative influence on the affection I had for her in the opening days of our marital life. You would have not believed it, I was a second rate, or so I thought, when it came to dishing out the food of love by my wife as far as this dog was concerned.

He was a courageous pet who feared nobody and was not given into inanities. If you heard Benson bark, be certain that there was trouble. If he hated you, forget ever courting his friendship. You could never win. His rejection of you was final. To him, affection was determined on first impression. There was no second chance.

As he grew, he became a local terror and he alone indented my residence. Anywhere within a shouting distance to my house became a no-walk zone.  I earned a deserved respect; at least for being the owner of self-appointed canine policeman of the neighborhood.

He was a mixed bag of fortune for those in my compound. While they applauded and cherished his guarding prowess, he was a torn in the flesh of the early birds who had to leave the compound for work at dawn. My wife usually lost her sleep any time from 5:30am because a knock on our window always ensured that each time he did not allow people to leave the compound, she was always called to leash her dog.

The children in my neighborhood had not quite seen a well pampered dog before and he became a subject of local gossip. Moreso that my wife usually enjoyed her evening strolls with the dog.

Although these soon stopped as my wife paid a few compensation to owners of local chickens who became victims of Benson’s truancy each time they strolled together. Even the goats were not exempted. I recall one or two incidences when we had to hire community leaders to help appeal to the owners of such animals.

But despite his  excesses, nobody wanted Benson out of the area as his good deeds in terms of provision of adequate security was considered a premium contribution to community’s development.

However, the indefatigable Benson had his weaknesses, which demonstrated that no matter how tough any individual could be, his white linen would still have dark spots.

Firstly, the wake up call by the Muslim muazin early in the morning proved a source of fear for our warrior who would whine and howl to no end until the call to prayer ceased.

Another thing I found out was that thunder-storm usually turned Benson into a quivering mass that would do anything to enter my flat any time this element struck. As if it was not enough, we discovered on his first Christmas season with us, that loud noises like the one from fireworks scared the breath out of him. This period of social madness became a time of torment for him. He was always inconsolable as long as the fireworks persisted.

Unfortunately, yours truly was also a source of fear. I could not understand this, but, each time he saw me, he was always rooted like an Iroko tree, tail tucked between his hind legs and urinating. He would maintain this posture until I passed. If he did not do that, he would run away or seek any place of refuge.

Occasionally, I had missed being attacked by hair’s breath.

This was indeed very funny. But not at all strange as I knew I was not in the good books of this friendly enemy. Right from day one, we had shared our separate paths, we had drawn our lines and we couldn’t cross the drawn borders.

Benson was my wife’s friend and she loved him dearly. I was an unfortunate number in between them. It is nonetheless instructive to note that pets, like all creatures of God, have their strengths and weaknesses. We can only exploit these attributes to our advantages in a manner that will not be abusive on the rights of the pets and to the comfort of man.