A Rendezvous With ...

I thought I'd achieved detente with death.  Generally, I'd learned to greet news of the demise of well or lesser-well-known person with a philosophical shrug of the shoulders, and a back-to-business-as-usual. determination.  Almost half a decade later, I'd even been able to call Courtney's name in casual conversation, albeit not often.   I measured feelings based on years of muteness.  No, I hadn't accepted Courtney's death well enough that I could open boxes friends and family had taped and stored on shelves high up in the garage.   Most likely, I'll never do that.

Then, almost overnight, I noticed a change in Kai, my beloved long-haired Dachshund Best Friend Forever.  Peaceful, stable, and easygoing has always marked Kai's demeanor.  Except, he had the loudest, strongest voice of a dog his size I'd ever heard!  He and Alexia, my daughter Tracey's "Maltese Baby Girl," easily and harmoniously lived together for years.  Kai simply allowed "Lexie" to think she reigned as "boss of us all," including him. 

Suddenly, Kai changed.  All Summer, he'd used the jangle from his collar to awaken me for our morning constitutional.  I'd hear a tinkling sound. groan or mutter in protest, then slowly sit up in bed.  I'd look around to make sure everything remained where I'd left it, and only then swing my feet to the floor. 

After  I'd completed morning ablutions, Kai stood there, his frenzied excitement marked by twirls and circles, impatiently waiting to follow me downstairs to the laundry room. where  his leash hung on the back of the door.  I'd almost trip as he followed me to the couch, lying as still as he could while I tried vainlessly to attach the lead to his collar. 

"Wait, Kai! Wait! Be still, I'm trying to get your collar right!" Then out of desperation, I'd threaten him,"If you don't stop RIGHT NOW, we're not GOING ANYWHERE, KAI!!! He'd finally quiet himself enough to get hitched up.  I'd check my pockets for "poop bags," keys, and cell phone before opening the front door.

Kai had established our itinerary as he deemed fit.  I prided myself on picking up after him and waiting as he'd sniff, smell, and pause.  Typically, Kai would allow me to set the route, that is, as long as he didn't sense danger, something disturbing, or just not kosher.   Sometimes, though not often, he'd stop in the middle of a block, dig in his heels, and refuse to take another step.  Hmm.

I learned to turn around and take an alternate route home.  

Two weeks ago, as the old Deacons would chant, "My eyes flew open and I saw a brand new day." However, I didn't hear Kai's collar tinkle or any sound for that matter.  Nevertheless, I got up, dressed, called to Kai, and waited.  He crawled slowly from under my bed and half walked, half-sidled to the top of the stairs.  

"Come on, Kai!" "Let's get your leash on and go for our walk!"

Kai just sat there, head cocked to the side as if listening.  I finally went downstairs, got his leash, brought it back upstairs, and attached it to his collar.

"What's wrong, Buddy," I asked as I tried to coax him down the stairs.

"Nothing," he seemed to say, as he turned around and scooted back under the bed.

Maybe, he's just having a bad hair day, I reasoned, and left for our customary walk. When I got back home, Kai walked slowly downstairs.  He didn't race to the patio door as he usually did, and barely pecked at his food.  He stumbled the few times he tried to walk and leaned against the wall a lot. I suppose for balance.

By the time Kai's Vet could see him, we had to carry him to the car and carefully place him in the backseat.  Kai's examination revealed the devastating news that he'd had a stroke and gone blind.  The kindest treatment meant Kai had to be put to sleep. Permanently.  Forever. 

Oh. My Goodness! My beautiful, gentle, long-haired Dachshund BFF, who allowed Lexie to think she had charge of him, now runs. scampers, and frolics in perfectly green, groomed Elysian Fields, carefree, with his hair blowing in soft, caressing wind.