Sir Swag is Back!

I write occasionally about Kai, my longhaired rescue Dachshund who cajoles, persuades, escorts, and sometimes directs me in his expanding role as protector of our hearth and home. Neither reticent nor penitent, Kai asserts his will, quickly and often. 

It never ceases to amaze me how well we communicate.  I can't bark and Kai can't talk, yet each clearly understands the other.

I awaken mornings not to the chime of an alarm but to the jangle of Kai's neck leash and the swishing of his tail.  He figured out early on that I'm a light sleeper so it doesn't take much to move me from sleep to sitting up.  Minutes later he waits somewhat impatiently for me to leave the bathroom (basic morning ablutions), then graces me with the "It took you long enough" look.  Then tail wagging furiously, Kai races downstairs to the patio door.  

I open it so he can run around the yard, looking for the perfect spot to relieve himself.  In the meantime, I get busy preparing the bowls of food and water I know he'll be expecting.  When his bark alerts me that he's ready to break the fast, I watch him eat like there's no tomorrow.  Kai goes out to the yard again after eating, this time to relax and enjoy his domain.

When Kai's not turning in happy circles or playing with his tattered toy, he naps in different spots throughout the day, although rarely on the bedding purchased just for him.  I'm not sure he "sees" himself as a Dachshund---still, pedigreed and favored, who cares which appellation he carries! 

His morning constitutional highlights Kai's days.  Our routes vary, with him scoping out and approving the paths he decides we'll take.  It's okay with me since I've learned to pick my battles!  Everything changes, however, when Kai returns from the groomer! No one doubts Lori's artistry with clippers and scissors.  She sends a suave, assured Kai home.  His mien, his attitude, and demeanor reflect her skills;  in subtle ways, he's different somehow.

How Kai knows how good he looks, I have no way of discerning.  But he does.  His "swagger," most likely genetic in origin, becomes more pronounced.  I recognize the change because I know when I'm looking good:  When the makeup is flawless and the dress drapes impeccably my demeanor changes! I know that I know that I know...  

"Me and my shadow
We're closer than the pages that stick in a book
We're closer than ripples that play in a brook
Strolling down the avenue
Wherever you find him, you'll find me, just look."

Ahem. Kai almost lopes as we walk to the stand of mailboxes.  His runway pose remains relaxed while I retrieve circulars and business-size envelopes.  Surreptitiously and homeward bound, he glances around to catch admiring glances. He thinks I don't notice! Ha.

Bedtime preparations rarely vary.  Family and friends believe I go to bed much too early. "You're a grown woman, for heaven's sakes," they grouse.  But it is what it is, so there.  I check to make sure the garage is secured; double-lock the kitchen door; and trek through the open space kitchen, dining area, and living room, turning lights off as I go. 

When we get to the stairs, Kai waits for me to go first.  Truly the protector!  I walk into my bedroom, Kai following, as he decides where he'll bed down for the first few hours of the night. I turn down linen and cover and piddle around for a while. 

"At the end of the day,
just kneel and say,
Thank you, Lord, for my work and play
I've tried to be good
I know that I should;
That's my prayer at the end of the day." 

"Good night, Kai."

Kai barks his good night.

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