Katana ~ A Cut to the Quick

Katana’s story begins with that of his litter brother, Kirin. Here is a short excerpt from that story to get us started:
Chapter 1
New Beginnings
Driving north from the Cariso Gorge, I was returning to my day-to-day from a desert trip. Dissolving and re-forming and dissolving again, I watched my consciousness prepare itself for what was next to come.
I was ready for a new chapter. Taking responsibility for furry new lives. As I packed the car for the journey northwards, I had checked and double-checked my preparations: water bowl, travel crate, blankets, towels… what does a puppy need?
My friends had been more than helpful. Puppy paraphernalia now littered my apartment and the back seat of my car. What will this be like, I wondered, as I pointed the car north and headed into the San Fernando Valley?
The breeders I was headed to, live and raise terriers in the desert just east of LA. I was planning on adopting two male Scottish terrier pups and bringing them back to southern Marin County with me. Even with detailed directions, the place was ‘interesting’ to find. No road signs, few landmarks… but I ended up at the breeders’ close to the appointed time with minimal back-tracking and only a few wrong turns.
The news, surprisingly, was mixed. One of ‘my’ puppies had colic. Serious colic. They would not let me see him or play with him, and only wanted me to take one pup with me today on the drive up north. As they brought out the one puppy, my arms ached for two…
{more in Kirin, A Companion’s Tale of Love and Transformation}
***
“We can’t let you take him, he has colic.” They referred to the second puppy, the one I would not be allowed to see or cuddle.
“I won’t be back down this way for another three months unless I can make special arrangements. Can you not let me take them both if I take responsibility?”
“No. We won’t part with a sick dog. His tummy is too upset for the drive anyway.”
I reluctantly agreed, having no choice really, and set off with the healthy puppy. But his adventures are another story.
***
A few weeks later I called to tell the breeders I was coming to retrieve the other pup. I was quickly recalling my childhood training in canine care. That having been administered mostly by my maternal grandfather, whose delight in his border collie companion makes me smile to this day.
“We lost him.” I stared at the phone, misunderstanding.
“Is anything being done to find him?”
“We went out to the puppy barn this morning and he was gone.” I still didn’t understand.
“He died in the night.”
He gave up.
The inner voice was absolute and I was crushed.
“We can let you know when the same bitch whelps. You would have first pick of her next litter. We don’t breed them too often though.”
“Well, yes, I do want a companion for Kirin…what happened?”
“We don’t know. One day he was fine and the next he was gone.”
He gave up.
I fed Kirin that evening with tears in my eyes.
***
The fragrance of hot corn tortillas and roasting chilis greeted me as I walked into the restaurant and dodged the crowded bar, heading for the stairs. Our meeting was set for the private dining room overlooking Tiburon marina. The sun was just setting as I walked in, glad to escape the clatter and clash of the famished throng below.
Victoria looked up, smiling, from arranging chairs and meeting materials.
“You look like you lost your best friend!” she exclaimed.
“I did, sort of. My puppy died.”
“Kirin?” She stopped for a moment, the folders in her hands forgotten.
“Um, no, his brother. The one I couldn’t collect the last time I was down south.”
“Weren’t you going to get him this weekend?”
“Tomorrow,” I nodded. “It happened a few days ago. I wish they had phoned to let me know.”
“He just pined away, didn’t he?” She resumed her setting up.
“Thanks. I feel bad enough already.”
“Oh I didn’t mean…”
“I know,” I interrupted her. “It’s just hard. He feels like part of me already.”
She continued arranging things, a thoughtful frown on her face.
“Maybe he wanted to bring you a stronger body.”
“Maybe so.” I smiled thinly.
Others were arriving, so I plunged into the meeting and the mouth-watering ceviche appetizer.
…
I had the voicemail a few months later. There was a black male Scottie in a new litter. He would be weaned and ready for adoption in about 6 weeks. There had been an ‘accidental pregnancy’ in the same bitch and this pup had the same parents as Kirin had. Another ‘brother’.
I was besotted with Kirin and starting to think I didn’t need another dog. Yet I knew he would love the company during my long working hours and this felt right. I needed to follow my original feelings but I wanted to be sure. If it was the right puppy I would know. I was certain of it, as I planned the journey.
The arrangements happened effortlessly. I woke before the alarm, stowing puppy essentials in the back seat of the car and tossing in my day-pack before the tea kettle had finished boiling. Ready.
I told Kirin, as I put out his breakfast, that I would be back very late that night, so he didn’t need to be upset at my leaving. He usually camped out on top of my garment bag before any departure, but he already knew this was different.
“He’s coming back with you.”
“I think so, yes.”
“Good,” he whuffed into his food bowl. There was something sly about the set of his ears.
Interrupting my assistant’s yawn at the front door, I handed her a bag of nibbles for Kirin. Simone did all kinds of errands and other things for me and was no stranger to my house. She and Kirin shared a mutual fascination for one another.
Grabbing her overnight case, I took it to the guest room, commenting over my shoulder for her to take advantage of the hot water and anything she might find in the fridge. Simone waved from the front door, with Kirin in her arms, as I locked the gate behind me.
I sometimes wonder how many times I’ve driven from the Bay Area south towards LA. Highway 5 at any hour is a long stretch of tedium until you hit the Grapevine, the pass through the mountains that takes you into the San Fernando valley.
The TA truckstop and I were old friends. I would stop there for a bio break before continuing south and east toward Riverside. Mid-morning it was already hot, so I avoided the idling engines of the big-rigs and parked in a tiny puddle of shade a few mirages away from the sprawling complex. Today’s stop would be a quick one anyway. By the time the car’s air-conditioned cool blew away I would be indoors in more of the same.
I arrived at the breeder’s location around lunchtime as planned. They had the little one ‘ready to roll’. No kibble strewn across the trailer floor this time, to prevent the car-sickness I’d been through with his brother a few months before. I heaved a grateful sigh and waited for the introduction.
A Scottie puppy wandered in from the patio, took one look at me, made a little-black-streaking beeline for my feet, sat down in front of me and whuffed “Take me home!”
That was that.
I looked into his limpid brown eyes and saw… the same spirit. This was my puppy! The very same, in a new, stronger body. He knew me and was delighted to be recognized in kind. He kept running over to the trailer door, spinning in circles, as I paid and collected his papers.
“He’s that anxious,” said the breeder, chuckling.
“I won’t leave him behind this time,” I agreed, though the breeder looked at me a little strangely, curious as to what I might have meant.
This one felt smaller than his brother, a tighter package somehow, though I couldn’t have said why. Scottie pups are of the smallish variety. I kept him on my lap or next to me for the drive across the grapevine, stopping to let us both out for a few minutes at the TA complex. This time I parked well away from everything, and knelt with him so he could relieve himself and sniff about a bit.
He was completely unfazed, so unlike his older ‘brother’! No fear, this one. He even let me know when he was ready to go, asking to be lifted back into the car on queue. I popped back into one of the shops for something cold to drink and when I returned, there was the little guy, on the floor of the passenger seat, curled in a dry corner of the wee pads, having done just that. His chin rested on the cased hilt of my Japanese practice sword. I had forgotten it was tucked along the side of the seat.
“Thank you!” I told him, glad the little mess was easy to take care of. He rubbed his chin against the sword case.
“What is this? It makes a good rest.”
“That’s called a katana. This one is for practice. The real ones are so sharp they can cut anything they touch.”
“Like my teeth,” he grinned. It was the first time I saw the patented grin, upper lip scrunched up, chin lifted, eyes bright. Over the years I would ask him, “KT, show me your teeth,” and he would do this every time.
“Katana,” he thought, trying it on. “Hmph,” as he curled into my lap to sleep through the hours of driving time.
When we got to the house, me being a much more savvy puppy protector by now, I let him roam around outdoors until his business was complete. When I opened the front door, Kirin was waiting. He and the new pup made a mad dash for one another and pounced each another madly.
They were so happy! This was the same little guy!
It wasn’t until after sword practice a few days later that I understood his little “hmph”. Walking to the kitchen to give ‘the boys’ dinner, I almost tripped over my swords. This time it was the larger shoulder bag, containing the wooden bokken and bamboo shinai used for training, as well as the katana itself.
The long, narrow bag had been toppled and dragged, by two very adroit accomplices, to the middle of the kitchen doorway. The new pup lay, pointedly and contentedly, across its upper opening. The inner wrappings for the katana had been nudged out around the buckled flap ever so slightly. The pup’s chin rested proudly on top.
“What are you trying to tell me? Oh.” He bared his needle-like weapon array at me, grinning. “Your name is Katana, isn’t it? You want to be called after a sword?” He kept grinning. “May I call you KT?”
“Why?” He wasn’t confused, he just wanted to know.
“For cute,” I answered him, thinking that it probably was ‘for short’ seeing as he was so little and needed time to grow into something like katana. A warrior’s name, if ever there was one, and we would see how things developed.
“Whuf!” he answered, sitting up on his little haunches, waving his front paws at me. With one swift swipe of his teeth, he sliced the near buckle off the sword case, tossing it aside and attacking the inner wrappings. Growling and tugging, he commenced battle.
We began ‘soft mouth’ training that minute, as I wrested my weapons from the gnawing embrace of that wriggly ball of determination.
Kirin looked on proudly from his comfy spot on the floor until KT got bored with our game and pounced him again.
I did say I wanted two of you, I sighed, shaking my head.
“Grrowwwffrrrgrrrawr,” was the only reply.

***
If you enjoyed this, stay tuned! There are more KT stories coming! He insists it is his turn for ‘booking’.
And please click the heart so others might meet these furry warrior-angels. My e-book, Kirin, A Companion’s Tale of Love and Transformation, is available in pdf form on my website via the above link, and will be available soon in kindle format on my Amazon author’s page.
