Easter in Belgium (and how traveling with a dog changes things)

It just so happened that Easter... Chad's birthday... and our local school's spring break all coincided into one weekend. Normally this wouldn't be a problem. We typically spend our Easter at home doing nothing.  We do nothing not necessarily by choice but because Easter is more important in Germany than Christmas and the entire country shuts down Good Friday through Easter Monday. True story. 

This year we decided to take advantage of the holiday and get out of the country for a bit. Unfortunately, we were extremely limited as to where we could go because as it was spring break here and a holiday... our dog kennel was booked about 7 months in advance for this very weekend. We had no choice but to travel with canine. This pretty much removed the majority of places we wanted to visit from the table. No Ireland or Spain this time around. And so, we decided on someplace a little closer to home. Belgium. Five and a half hours and two countries away (and dog friendly). 

So in the early morning of Good Friday- myself, my husband, our child and our dog headed North with visions of frites, waffles and Belgium chocolates dancing in our heads (okay, mostly my head since Chad was driving).

Our first stop was in Bastogne, Belgium. I've wanted to go here for YEARS I tell you. YEARS. This is no exaggeration. I'm not a World World II historian by any means but ever since reading The Diary of Anne Frank in the 4th grade (and supplementary texts) I've had a slight fascination with the era. I've read books from the American perspective, the German perspective, and the French perspective. Chad and I have visited Hitler's Eagles Nest, Dachau, the Anne Frank House, etc all of which have fed into my curiosity and peaked further interest into this time. 

Bastogne is about an hour and a half outside of Brussels. It was the perfect stopping point for lunch and potty breaks. You know.... for Meatloaf. Also, we were mainly stopping there to see the various monuments (although there is an 101st Airborne Museum that we didn't visit) and to see Easy Company's fox holes. All dog friendly. 

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You know it's going to be a great trip when it starts out with an 105 Euro gas bill. Nice.

If you're not familiar with the story of Bastogne and it's history... you should read or watch (or both) Band of Brothers. Seriously. It was absolutely amazing to be able to go and pay our respects to the men who fought so fiercely in the most unforgiving of environments...

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And even though we weren't there to enjoy it, we left our Easter tree up for the neighborhood to see.

Frohe (very belated) Ostern!

Brussels next....

Sweet, little, collie girl Gnocchi...

When we took Gnocchi in two years ago we quickly learned that she was a Collie with serious issues.

In her first year of life, Gnocchi experienced severe abuse and neglect which resulted in a plethora of frustrating behaviors.

Even though we consulted Collie rescues in the states and googled oversea rescues hoping to find someone -or anyone- better qualified to care for a dog like her, before we knew it Gnocchi was an important member of our family.

Her sweet disposition and pink-spotted nose melted our hearts and with a lot of love and even more patience she became comfortable, confident and an overall great companion.

Gnocchi and Meatloaf became my constant companions in times when I was alone. sick. sad. alone. lonely. tired. alone.

I always had my dogs.

Their little feet shuffling through the house.

I love it.

Unfortunately, it is no surprise that our lifestyle isn't conducive for a dog with acclimation issues.

Moving every few years is hard enough on the human species... throw in a skittish, fearful Collie- it's a bad mix.

So, against our (my) will. We started looking for a more permanent-German-home for Gnocchi.

It was no surprise to us that a lovely couple...

looking to fill their home with everything dog (after losing their own dog in April)-

fell in love with our Gnocchi-girl and decided she was their missing piece.

And so, Thursday night I went to kiss the snout of our Collie one last time.

And I cried.

Like a baby.

I know that Gnocchi will have a wonderful life... which will include...

a diet (as she is a little overweight).

19 km walks.

Dog friends.

A 'grosse garten' (big yard).

And most importantly, a stable, loving environment.

Even though we know it's in Gnocchi's best interest...we still miss her like hell.

Dogs are miracles with paws. - Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy

27/53

Let me start out by saying I love this little face.

With that said, I wish the teething business would slow down a bit.

I can do without it. Especially right now. Being alone.

Nothing makes you feel more lonely than having snot wiped all over your shoulder (all day long), then thrown up on (twice) all while running on just a couple hours of sleep.

And of course when I REALLY want to yell at someone (because I can't help it) I look around and see two canines and a baby.

It's at this point that I'm reminded that yelling is pointless.

So we get a teether and power on.

Sunday

Sunday is the day I skype with my parents. It's always a good time. My mom sometimes struggles with the camera while her throat burns because my dad is cooking his damn peppers. (They really do burn your throat... and your eyes... no exaggeration.) My dad, while cooking his peppers, sometimes looks outside and sees an interesting finch or something equally exciting. Then we talk about the going ons in their neck of the woods and mine. Except this week we realized we had only been apart for 3 days and there wasn't that much to talk about. Then little man went poop. An explosive poop. When Chad returned him to me nice and clean for the camera he pooped again. Nuclear I tell you. Then Meatloaf threw up twice and we decided skyping next week would be better.

Then Gnocchi peed on the floor.

The End.

But please enjoy the following pictures from Rhett's visit to the Mercedes Museum in Stuttgart.

He's already picked out the car he wants for his 16th birthday.

I think this may be my last blog about poop... maybe

Bushy overgrown trees remain...

My Friday morning started with a lot of poop. Dog poop that is. On Thursday evening, our landlord called and told me the tree trimmer was coming on Friday. To most people this wouldn't be a big deal but to someone who has conveniently avoided picking up dog poop since Christmas this caused quite the problem. Friday morning was spent picking up rock hard dog poop with a large stick since it had been frozen for like 2 months. It was really great. A really great workout that is. Anyways, it was a lovely way to start my day.

Friday afternoon when I returned home the trees looked exactly the same as the day before. The tree trimmer didn't show. Of course.

And today we woke up to 3 inches of new snow.

I should have just left the shit for another day.... or Chad.

Gnocchi (the dog, not the food)

With Chad gone now I always hear strange noises in the night. Noises I would otherwise just ignore or send Chad downstairs to investigate.

Last night at approximately 1230, I heard a large crash. It startled me. I'm not sure why I was scared considering Stetten is the safest place I've ever lived. I mean, Chad did leave our house keys in the front door once. He then continued to drive all the way to work and realized only after he got to his office that they were in the door. He drove back and the keys were still there in broad daylight and our house (and dogs) were secure. Our landlord also said that when he was young he left the garage door open all night long and nothing was moved or taken when they realized it in the morning.

Regardless, there's something already alarming when you're alone in a big house and then to hear strange noises is more unnerving. Anyways, since I knew that I wasn't going to walk around downstairs in my undies to investigate I used our stealth, secret weapon. Gnocchi. I told her to go downstairs and look around and she did (I kid you not). I heard her do a sweep of the living room, kitchen, and dining room, shuffling her hairy paws across the floor. When she didn't bark and returned alive I figured all must be well and we went back to bed.

This morning when I took the dogs out I saw than an avalanche of snow had fallen from the roof and landed on the patio furniture below. Hence the loud crash.

I'm really only writing this blog because I think Gnocchi deserves some credit here. And because I think I might have some dog whisper-er in me.

Dogs on Holiday

We survived our 'trial day' at the dog kennel. When I say 'we' I pretty much mean me and Chad... and when I say me and Chad... I pretty much mean me. The whining, whimpering, crying... it was almost too much to take and don't get me started on the dogs.

Anyways, I have to kennel the dogs because my parents are coming next week. I've known this was coming for a long time now but I enjoy living in denial. Not to mention we had a dog sitter who would come to our house and stay with them. That was awesome, but like all things, they must come to an end.

So, I found Dogs on Holiday on the 'recommended' list at our vet office. I called them, visited them, and set up our 'trial day' knowing that it would be a little rough.

After dropping them off I had to drive 3 ft. away from the building, pull over, and pull myself together.

We were only apart for a total of 9 hours before I went to pick them up.

Max, the kennel owner, said they did fine and he felt comfortable adding us to his clientele.

Then he told me Meatloaf had a problem with being one in a pack of dogs and needs to realize he's not the boss. He actually used the word 'prince' to describe Meatloaf.

During this time I just stood there with a smile pretending that he wasn't insinuating my dog is spoiled because common'....

that's impossible.

Observations From A Dog Walk

Are you getting sick of random cabbage and lettuce photos yet? Just to keep you on your toes I added the dead, decaying frog. I promise I will get my Autumn obsession under control soon and stop posting pictures of trees, leaves, and rows of lettuce. But honestly... have you ever seen better looking produce??!! The colors... the textures...okay, I'll stop.

Happy Friday!

2Nd BlOg Of ThE dAy...

I was feeling guilty this morning. One for not having anything to blog about (hence the Meatloaf blog) and two for not being able to take the dogs for their usual walks. In my defense, however, I have been held captive in my own home thanks to allergies. They took down some trees in our backyard which resulted in millions of newborn pollen spores to be scattered... EVERYWHERE. I wake up every morning feeling like I just snorted tar. I would pay someone for a runny nose right about now because at least I wouldn't have all this stuff in my head. Anyways, in addition to the congestion I'm also exhausted. Seriously. I could sleep all day. I think most of that is out of frustration because I can't do anything or go anywhere because I can hardly breathe.

Thankfully, I've been feeling a little better these last few days and decided to take advantage of the not-too-hot-not-too-cold-not-too-humid weather and venture outside for a dog walking EXTRAVAGANZA. And this is kind of where the "feeling guilty for the lack of blogging" comes in. Typically when I feel that way something occurs that begs to be blogged. So here we go...

Apparently, while I was held up in the house, my lovely canines forgot all their proper German walking manners. Here are a few examples:

Pooping on the sidewalk.... not okay in Germany (or anywhere for that matter).

Lunging at a young woman because you want a piece of the apple she's eating.... yep, not okay.

Stopping to mark your territory every two feet, especially when your bladder is empty and you're essentially squatting or lifting your leg for no reason and holding up this whole production.... NOT OKAY.

And last but not least... REFUSING to take one more step* when we're a mile from home and making "Mom" carry your 26 lb. butt.... DEFINITELY NOT OKAY.

*He's a repeat offender as well... he stopped walking downhill a few feet from our house... sat down in the middle of the street and almost got us all killed by a German motorist.

I don't know if I'll be up to this tomorrow.

Sometimes when Mom is not looking...

I hop up on her 1964 German Flea Market find of a lounge chair.

I soak up the sun...

Work on my tan...

and if I hear her coming...

I just flash her my best smile.



It always melts her heart.