I thought I’d dedicate today’s post, which I wrote last year to my beloved Kiri aka Sausage, who passed away last December. She is missed but when thought of, brings smiles to the faces of those who loved her.
For those of you who love your four-legged friends, I hope you get a giggle from this little ditty.
For most dogs the rattling of a lead, or the mention of the word walk, sends them into a wild frenzy. Some do circles, some bark excitedly, while others run for the front door before you get a chance to change your mind.
Not Sausage. The mere mention of that filthy word was enough to send her high tailing it back to her sleeping bag, slip through the opening, bury herself at the end and not be seen. After all she believed that if she couldn’t see you, then it was very obvious you couldn’t see her.
I tried to get her excited about a walk, to no avail. I once tempted her with a piece of cheese, one of her great loves, which got the lead on and us both out the door, but a few hundred metres down the road she stopped and no amount of pulling, dragging and kind loving words would budge her. Nope, and living in fear of the neighbours reporting me to the RSPCA for cruelty at seeing me pull a small, grey fuzzy and extremely stubborn little dog down the road, I resorted to carrying her. Once in my arms, I was showered with slurps, not a particularly pleasant experience as Saus’s breath was questionable to say the least.
She may not have liked walks, but she still loved to get out of the house. Remember I mentioned about dogs’ who go into a frenzy at a mere rattle of the lead? Apart from cheese, a mere rattle of the car keys saw Sausage in a frenzy and for one with little short legs, she could cover some serious ground with lightening speed when the mood suited. Once at the car, there was then the ritual of getting in. For some reason unbeknown to us humans she’d only get in from the driver’s side and as she was short, getting in was a two step process. Firstly, a few moments of rocking back and forth on her haunches, similar to a high jumper working up to the big jump was performed, followed by swift forward leap onto the floor and as she’d become quite good at this manoeuvre, she always avoided injury on the pedals by ensuring her landing was precise.
Once there, another few moments of rocking preceded a deft leap onto my seat then one final leap over the centre console saw her finally sitting proudly on the left hand passenger seat, a place I’m sure she felt was hers and hers alone.
If the boys had friends in the car and in her seat, she’d throw herself on the floor and as a mark of disgust, pant her fish-infused breath in their direction. But the madness in all of this was that once we reached our destination, she’d run for cover under the seat, as no way would she get out and walk anywhere. Following was a perfect example.
Living on the Sunshine Coast, home to some of Australia’s most beautiful beaches, the boys decided a late afternoon bodyboard was in order. Of course the moment the keys were rattled, Sausage was at the back door before the rest of us had even made it down the stairs. And on that afternoon she did just that and looked very pleased and contented as we drove to the beach.
On arrival, I smiled at her sweetly as she eyed me suspiciously from her special spot (there were no friends in residence). I held up the lead and with that she launched a perfect dive bomb under the seat, which in turn lead to me having to find the best grip in order to manipulate her firmly wedged little body out from under the seat.
Of course amid this madness, the boys’ were egging me on with shouts of, ‘come on mum,, you can do it’!
I finally won the battle, placed the lead around her neck and set off to the beach, although not accompanied by the sound of little paws walking alongside. Nope, she was in my arms, and if dogs could actually smile, I believe hers would have been wider than the Grand Canyon. And as we sat watching the boys surf, and although she would never have admitted it, secretly I think she quite enjoyed lazing on the boys’ towels, watching other dogs walk along the beach.
The ode to this story is I now have Stanley, another wire-haired dachshund and he too runs like there’s no tomorrow at the rattle of the keys.
In contrast though, he says, a walk? Yes please, but I’ll also take the car! 🙂