~ from cats, dogs and nature to the flowering of body, mind and spirit ~

Monday, December 3, 2012

The Guardian Part 5


Waiting. It’s that time of day where the sun is low over the far tree line, the orange light fading from the sky. And that means she’ll be here soon. So I sit. And wait. Someone yells at me from behind and across the yard, but I don’t even swivel an ear. I can see the parking lot from exactly here. In this spot, there’s a little hole in the bushes, so I know when she gets here. So, I sit. 
The nice woman who works here doesn’t usually make me come in with the other dogs anymore. I didn’t like it here at first. And when Rain walked off without me the first time, I howled and barked and cried all night until I my voice was only a whisper of sound. There was so much noise all around me with lots of unfamiliar dogs barking, and shiny metal gates clanging, and the feed pans would screech across the hard floor in my den and the others around me. At least until I learned to tune out the noise. 
I didn’t eat that night or the next morning and the nice woman with the round face and pink cheeks had to coax me out into the big grassy yard where she talked to me and petted me while we walked around. Well, she walked and I kept pulling back. I didn’t know her and she was pulling me away from the direction of the blue door and Rain. Where had Rain gone? Would she be back? She said she would and I tried to believe. But I was scared she had left me. How could we help each other if I’m left here without her?
But you know what? She did come back to me. The very next day near sundown, I heard Rain’s voice calling me from the doorway to the big yard and I ran full tilt into her nearly knocking her down. She sat on the ground right there, hugging me and laughing, as I licked her face and then tucked my nose into her armpit where I stayed for a long while, breathing in her scent so I wouldn’t forget her ever.
Rain stayed with me a long time. She talked and I listened, her voice once more the soothing song of gentle rainfall. But, before I was ready to be alone again, she stood up and said she had to go. She promised to return. She came back this time but what if she didn’t again? 
I stood on my hind legs when Rain stood up and I wrapped my front legs around one of hers, holding, whining. I saw her eyes begin to water and she kept talking, but I couldn’t understand her through my own fear. 
Well, that was a long time ago. A long time for a pup anyway. The moon has already gone missing, and then come back to grow big and round again a whole time. I’m already a little taller than I was when Rain brought me here. I’ve gotten used to the other dogs and noises and people. But right now I wait.
There! A familiar car shape pulls into the lot and I start to wiggle. I can’t help it. The door opens and Rain steps out. I bark as loud as I can. And bark again. She looks over toward me, though the bushes block most of her view. I see her smile. 
“Hi, baby!” Her voice is the best sound in the whole world. I circle and dance my feet until she goes in the blue door. Then I race over to the yard door, watching, barking, pacing. The door opens and Rain’s here!
“How’s my girl doing?” Rain asks me, kneeling and hugging me. I feel like she’s been gone forever instead of just a day. I sniff her, she pets me, hugging me close, kissing the top of my head while I try to lick her face. It’s a crazy fun time.
“I have a surprise for you. Really good news.” Her voice is a bit higher in pitch and she talks faster than usual.
“We’ve signed the papers and bought the house in the mountains. Next week I can bring you home to stay!” I’m not sure what all this stuff means yet, but Rain is really happy and excited so it must be good for both of us. Me, I’m just happy she’s here with me right now. I like when Rain is happy. That’s when we run around the yard playing tag or tug-of-war on a rope. She throws balls for me, too, but I don’t go after them because they take me away from her.
She’s not always happy when she comes, though. Those times I cuddle up next to her. Sometimes she’s droopy and her whole body sighs and she talks about how things aren’t the way she thought they would be. Sometimes her body is tense and sort of pulled in on itself and she cries. Those are the worst, and I get as close to her as I can. When that happens, we just sit off in a corner in the big grassy yard. I snuggle and lay my chin on her leg or tuck my head in between her arm and side, while she strokes my head, caresses my ears, and sinks her slender fingers into my thick fur, kneading muscles. I like her touch and our closeness seems to help. She’s usually smiling near the end of her visit. 
Once in a while, I get a Big Reward and she attaches the red leash to my collar and takes me with her in the car where we go and have adventures. But we always end up back here.
“So, it’s the weekend. Where shall we go?”
Weekend! That’s it. That’s the word she says when I get to go in the car with her and do something fun. The Big Reward. We have adventures like going to the forest to hike trails for hours. So many smells that my nose gets tired.
A couple of times we drove to a brick building in the town, and I had to be very quiet.
“No dogs are allowed in the apartments,” Rain said, her brows drawn together a little as she talked to me in a low, firm voice. “You have to be really quiet, and if you are, then you can stay with me tonight, all night long. Since you-know-who is working, you can come in.”
Those times were great. I would climb the stairs with her and go into the rooms that smelled like Rain and yummy food and rabbit and birds. I think the rabbit is very interesting. Rain is teaching me that the rabbit is part of our family. That’s what she says. And we don’t hurt family. I’m still a little confused about it, because I remember chasing a rabbit in the fields where I used to live, but I try to pay attention and learn the rules. The two tiny birds just scatter seeds all over the table and I’m too short to see them very well.
There was another human scent there, too. And I’ve met him. I don’t like him very much. He reminded me of Big Man. They don’t look the same but I could feel anger in the man with the short black hair and intense dark eyes. Wolfie whispers in my head to be careful, possible danger, so I held back from Dark Man. I still don’t much like men anyway. And I didn’t like how Rain acted when the man was around. She would glance at him constantly, always looking to see how he was acting, and she kept me on my leash. 
But the Dark Man was only there the once for a short bit. Rain said he had to go to work. His shirt and pants were the same dark color with a stripe down the side of his pant leg. And he put around his waist a thick leather belt with lots of metal on it. The last thing he did was put a gun into the leather. I knew the word ‘gun’ because I remembered Big Man had one. Big Man used to get his gun when he said he was going hunting. But Big Man’s gun was long while this gun was short. 
But right now, Rain is pulling the red leash out of her back pocket. I circle around her feet, and she laughs.
“Where shall we go today, Kiki?” 
That’s the other name she calls me. It’s a new name. Rain said I needed a proper name, that’s what she told me when she started using the new word. I’m getting used to it. Doesn’t matter to me what she calls me as long as I get to stay with her.

-- to be continued -- 

4 comments:

  1. The dog is so intuitive, and hurts just like a child when her Mama is gone or hurting, too.

    I also loved the female bond and Sacred Feminine intuition that both Rain and Kiki possess.

    You didn't say a month had passed, one full moon to another. Liked that, too!

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    1. Thank you for reading and commenting; I'm glad you enjoy the bond, the intuition, the sacred connection of nature felt between the dog and the woman. I feel this so deeply, and am rewarded when someone else can feel this through my words.

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  2. I love the sweet relationship between Kiki and Rain. If only all dogs, and people for that matter, could feel that kind of comfort wherever they are...

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    Replies
    1. Thank you ... yes, many years in rescue work brought many tears ...

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