The vet tech told me to go into the back room, where another tech was holding your leash. You looked miserable -- your head drooped, and your tail sagged earthward. I'd only had you in my life for a few days, yet when you smelled and heard me, your ears pricked and oh, so very slowly, your tail started to raise..... until it formed its perfect Akita curlicue. You knew me!
And of course I recalled the second or third day you were in my house. NL, the director of the rescue group through whom I was (allegedly) 'just fostering' you, had told me: "never, never, never, put your face at the level of an Akita's."
So when I was squatting in front of the bathroom vanity, rummaging around for whatever, I froze when you walked up behind me and took the back of my head (my ENTIRE HEAD!) in your mouth. I thought a (very) bad word and 'I'm going to die!'
When you let go, I stood up oh, so s-l-o-w-l-y, I was relieved when you took my (entire) thigh in your mouth. I distinctly remembered thinking 'weeeelllll, I can live with one leg.'
Stupid human that I am, I didn't realize that this was your way of saying you loved me.
Remember how, if ever I was walking with someone else, you'd come up behind us and then walk between us? Remember, during your last year, how you'd stick your head between my legs if I was talking to someone? What a goof! You'd always be so proud of yourself.
I miss you, K. I think of you every day. I have two wonderful, terrific, amazing dogs in my life, and neither of them are you. You are always in my heart. I love you.
