Tails of Two Dogs

Once upon a time, there was a little dog (a six-month-old puppy, actually) named Geisha. Geisha was a black and tan long-haired Dachshund living with The Colonel and Mrs Colonel, who were retired after a final tour in post-war Japan. Surprisingly, given that they'd lived in Japan, they mispronounced "Geisha" as "GHEEsha," rather than "GAYsha." Nobody around them knew any better, so everyone said "GHEEsha" when talking to, or about, the little dog.

Two doors away lived a little girl who had just turned six in June. The lawns of all the houses in the neighborhood ran together, so the little girl discovered the little dog very quickly. The little girl loved to play with the little dog, and ran over to The Colonel's house every day when the dog came out. She would run the dog across The Colonel's yard, down the slight incline through the next-door neighbor's yard, through her own yard, then back up the incline to The Colonel's yard. The little girl would flop on her back on the grass, and play-wrestle with the little dog. The Colonel would stand in his yard, smiling at them.

Mrs Colonel had Parkinson's Disease. She didn't come outside to play or watch, and had to stay inside on a couch in the living room. The Colonel and Mrs Colonel had the first television set in the neighborhood, to give Mrs Colonel something to do. The Colonel and Mrs Colonel were very generous with the neighborhood children, and every day at 4:00 the neighborhood children were invited in to watch Howdy Doody on the television set. It was magic for the children and, although they were a little afraid of Mrs Colonel because she shook all the time, they were very appreciative. The little girl was probably the most appreciative, because she could pet Geisha while she watched Howdy Doody.

On the Fourth of July that year, The Colonel approached the little girl's father and asked if he could give Geisha to the little girl. The Colonel said the puppy was turning out to be a bit much for them to take care of, and it was obvious the little girl and the puppy loved each other. The little girl's father agreed and, that morning when the little girl went out to play, The Colonel walked down the incline to her yard with Geisha, and gave her to the little girl. The little girl couldn't believe the puppy was really hers!

But Geisha was terrified of the fireworks. The noise made her shake, and she whimpered. Although the little girl loved the Fourth of July and all the hoopla, she spent the entire day in the garage with the little dog, petting her and soothing her. The little girl and the little dog bonded solidly that day.

Geisha's bed was set up in the garage. Also in the garage were a wringer washer and an A-frame clothes tree to dry the washed clothes. When the garage door was open, as it was during most summer days, Geisha learned how to grab clothes off the clothes tree and tear outside with them. The little girl's mother was embarrassed more than once by having her underwear trotted out in the neighborhood, then plopped on someone else's lawn. The little girl's mother quickly learned not to put clothes on the lower rungs of the clothes tree.

In a couple of years the family moved to a different suburb, but in many ways it was just the same. Yards ran together, and kids and dogs romped freely across all of them. The little girl got a bike, and Geisha ran along beside the little girl as she rode around the neighborhood. The little girl rode a bus to school, which stopped about two blocks from her house. Geisha walked her to the bus stop every morning, and was there to greet her every afternoon to walk her home.

The little girl liked to lie on her tummy on the living room floor to read the Sunday funnies. Every time she did that, Geisha would come explore the little girl's hair with her nose and mouth, licking the hair and rooting around for whatever didn't belong in hair. This always made the little girl laugh, and it would end in a play-wrestle romp on the living room floor. The little girl loved it.

The girl grew, and got household chores. One of her chores was doing the dinner dishes. It was a small family, only the three of them, but the girl could extend dishwashing seemingly forever. On Friday nights the family always had hamburgers for dinner. The girl would take the frying pan, run a little warm water in it, loosen the bits of meat at the bottom, and call Geisha. Geisha would bound out to the kitchen and happily lap up all the beefy water.

Geisha knew the girl's every mood. Sometimes Geisha would bark impatiently at the girl, usually when the girl needed to be bossed a bit. When the girl was sad, Geisha knew immediately and jumped into her lap to lick her face. When the girl hated her parents, which was most of her teen years, she would take Geisha into her bedroom and cuddle her while she read a book. Geisha permitted herself to be cuddled as long as the girl wanted. When the girl was in high school and began dating, Geisha looked over every boy who came to the house, then waited up for the girl to come home.

Over time, the girl began to notice that the hair around Geisha's muzzle was getting gray. She also saw that Geisha had trouble getting up the two steps from the garage into the kitchen. Before long Geisha couldn't get in or out of the back seat of the car without help. Worse, Geisha didn't seem to see very well, any longer. But she still wagged her tail and greeted the girl every afternoon when she came home from school, and licked her face and gave cuddles whenever the girl wanted.

One Friday, during her senior year of high school, the girl had gone to a friend's house after school, getting home just in time for dinner. After dinner the girl got the frying pan, ran a little warm water in it, loosened the bits of hamburger at the bottom, and called for Geisha. No dog. She called again. Still no dog. She opened the door to the garage, but Geisha wasn't out there, either. She went into the living room to ask if her parents knew where Geisha was, but saw them with sad and guilty looks on their faces. Finally her parents confessed that they had taken Geisha to the vet that day and had her put to sleep. Geisha was twelve years old.

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Once upon a time, there was a little dog (an eleven-week-old puppy, actually) named Kudo. Kudo was a black and tan and beige Shiba Inu, living with a breeder in Idaho. Surprisingly, the breeder had named her Kudo without knowing it was a real Japanese surname.

One state away lived a retired widow who had just turned sixty in June, and who hadn’t really owned a dog since childhood. She lived in a condominium with two cats, and thought a dog wouldn’t be very happy in a small space with no yard. A friend, however, noted that he thought the pets that took the most energy from their owners also gave the most back. Cats, he observed, don't take much effort, but they sleep all the time and aren't particularly social even when they're awake. The woman pointed out she lived in a condo with no yard, but the friend thought that wasn't much of a problem.

The woman was lonely, and her friend's comments continued to run through her mind. After a while she looked at some dog shelters, but couldn't find anything that looked like a dog she would like. She did see a young Shiba Inu at a shelter; it was the first time she had ever heard of that breed, but several people were ahead of her who wanted that dog. She went away from several shelters empty handed.

She decided to research breeds to see what kind of dog might be happy in a condo. She didn't want a foo-foo dog, as she disdainfully put it, but didn't think a big dog would be a good idea, either. Finally she stumbled across a description of Shiba Inu, and remembered the dog at the shelter. Clearly that breed of dog would require a fair amount of her time, but wasn't that the point?

She began looking for AKC breeders and found the one in Idaho. After many phone calls and e-mails, the woman selected Kudo from the pictures of the littermates and from the personality description given by the breeder.

On the second of September, Kudo arrived by air cargo. The woman went to the airport early, just in case, and was delighted when a crate arrived carrying her puppy. The puppy was terrified and shaking in her little crate, but through it all sat up straight and wore an expression of dignity.

The woman took the puppy home, sat on the floor, invited the puppy out of the crate, and held it for a half-hour until it stopped shaking. She petted it and soothed it, and the woman and the puppy bonded solidly.

The woman kept her laundry basket for dirty clothes on the floor in her closet. The puppy learned how to grab clothes out of the laundry basket and run all over the condo with them. The woman smiled, and was thankful the puppy couldn't get outside with them.

Kudo runs freely at the off-leash park every day. The woman takes tennis balls for Kudo to chase. Kudo has patiently been teaching the woman to fetch the balls, and the woman can almost always be counted upon to do so. This amuses the woman no end. She is fond of saying Kudo is much smarter than she is, and the only thing the woman has going for her is opposable thumbs.

The woman likes to lie on her back on the couch and read. Every time she does that, Kudo comes rushing to the couch, jumps up, lands on the woman's tummy, and begins licking her face and wagging her tail. This always makes the woman laugh, and she play-wrestles with the puppy on the couch. The woman loves it.

Kudo knows the woman's every mood. Sometimes Kudo will nudge the woman's leg impatiently, coaxing her into a game of indoor catch. When the woman is sad, Kudo knows immediately and jumps in her lap and licks her face. When the woman walks Kudo on the sidewalk after dark, Kudo woofs away any strangers who get too close. When visitors come to the condo, Kudo looks them over carefully.

The woman followed the news about downer cows, and heard the government's assurances that meat from such cattle wouldn't get into the human food chain. Into whose food chain WILL it get, then, she wondered. She began to buy fresh-frozen raw food, made of human-grade chicken or buffalo with vegetables. She cooked it herself, then put a little warm water into the frying pan to loosen the bits that were stuck, and gave the dog the frying pan to lick. Eventually the dog turned her nose up at the food the woman was buying, so the woman began cooking her own human-grade meat and vegetables for the dog. The dog loves them, and continues to lick out the frying pan.

In a few days, the woman will have spent a full year with the little dog. Shiba Inus live to be about fifteen years old, and the woman intends to get every last minute out of the next fourteen, or more if she is very lucky. She knows fully what a treasure she has, and how quickly time with those she loves can pass.

August, 2004