Hund Dag Eftermiddag

For the past few weeks, the weather here in Sweden has been nearly perfect. Blue skies with some occasional small puffy clouds. A nice breeze (or occasional strong wind) to cool you down. Temperatures have hovered around 27C (that's 80F for you Yanks). That's quite toasty by Swedish standards. And awe-inspiring sunsets. Det är sommar!

So, last weekend was a "home" weekend. As such, we decided to treat the dogs to a day at the beach. Like most places in the States, dogs are not allowed on beaches during this time of the year. But, there are a few places to be found. We headed about an hour South of Göteborg. Past the town of Varberg. To Holmen. The beach is situated right next to a nature preserve and a small boat harbor.

The water was extremely shallow. Which I found out once I thought I had lost the dog's water toy. The wind was pushing it further away. The toy was now quite far away and I assumed it was in deep water. I was in calf deep water wearing shorts with my wallet in my pocket. I looked to TJ for help. He had on board shorts. And likes to swim more than I do. So, off he went. It turned out to be shallow quite a ways out. He never had to swim at any point. Zoey, who followed him out, did. Good girl.

Zoey and Lily enjoyed themselves. Though, Lily had to retire a bit early since she's not the water dog she used to be. Here's a little video snippet of all the fun:

Jet Lag and Culture Shock

They made it! Zoey and Lily arrived on Wednesday. Lily seemed to have come through the ordeal a little tired, but none the worse for wear. Zoey was a little shaken, but very glad to see us. We stopped just outside the airport and let them have a run around a large grassy field. Probably for the first time in 3 months. The photo on the left shows Lily after her spirited run. Alert. Seemingly content. Zoey is in the photo on the right. She just wanted to chase her Kong toy. Again and again. Just like old times. Tongue hanging out. I probably should have held back on the last few throws. But, she kept coming back and looking at me with those eyes that said "ett till" (once more).

As I write this on Day 4 of their arrival, it seems like much longer. In a good way. But, I do wonder what they make of all this. Neither had flown before. Neither has lived in the downtown part of a city with its hustle and bustle and strange sounds. Neither has lived in a building with an elevator; so many doors to pass through before they get home. How much did and will this move affect them?

Lily has come through the process relatively unscathed. The spiral stairs in the apartment presented a bit of an obstacle. Lily was extremely tentative especially on the very top and very bottom steps. TJ bought some rubber floor mats, cut them up and placed them on the stairs. Traction! Now, she motors up and down with relative ease; she is nearly 13 years old, after all. On the deck, there is a portion of the railing that is not covered with screening material. Initially, Lily did not want to venture close to that section. Perhaps her eyesight doesn't perceive the rails that well and all she sees is the vast openness beyond. Who's to say. We're still working on that one.

Zoey. The rescue puppy. Now, nearly 3 years old, she has just been through a series of stressful situations. And it shows. Loud noises now seem to scare Zoey. A lot. And trash cans. And statues. And, apparently, the horses painted on the inside of the parking garage. The elevator causes anxiety. She has growled at friends. Her response at times of greatest distress is to cower away with her tail between her legs and try to escape.

But, then, she can become the Zoey we left in Irvine. TJ and I both realize that the recovery process may take some time. All we can do is reassure her. And love her. I have confidence that she'll get the hang of things here. That things will become familiar. That routines will develop. It's only been 4 days. And if I can do it, so can she.

Special Delivery

In transit. Two doogles. Precious cargo with special handling requirements. En route to Amsterdam with a Tuesday arrival. A layover with a stay at a first class hotel. Perhaps a promenade around the red light district. A swim in the canals. Chasing bicycles on cobbled streets. Or tempted by space cakes. Possibly. This is what happens when dogs are given passports. They head on to Goteborg on Wednesday. We will be anxiously awaiting them at the airport. A big smile on our face and treats in our hand. In the meantime, the flight attendants will have their hands full. No running on the airplane!

Hundar

Upon opening an email the other night, we were pleasantly surprised to see a photo of these two not-so-sad doogles. Our friend, Brian, was kind enough to send this to me.

We would like to thank Brian, Wayne and Maria for each taking time to visit Zoey and Lily while they wait out their days in puppy gulag.

We're still not quite sure what or who the girls were looking at when the photo was taken, but they look good. And that's what really counts. They are in LA, after all.

So, an update. Although the girls had their blood drawn on the 26th, we've been informed that the results of the rabies test will not be back before at least the 15th of April. Thus, they won't arrive until at least the 20th.

That sad and depressing bit of news just makes me wonder where they are sending these blood samples that they take so long to process. I mean shouldn't they have some sort of home pregnancy test for rabies: reliable, accurate and FAST. One would think. But, I must not think evil thoughts about the inefficiency of the dog relocation company. That is, until the dogs are safely in Sweden.

And, yes, hundar is the Swedish words for dogs. I am slowly learning Swedish. Truth be told, a month ago, I started an intensive course in Swedish, but stopped going a little more than half-way through. Both the instruction and textbook were in Swedish. Yes, the teachers would answer questions as well as speak in English. Still, it was tough going for me. Admitting defeat is never easy - kind of like being a beauty school dropout. Eh, Frenchy.

Well, I dusted off my pride (which was gathering dust in the closet) and started a new class with TJ. Once a week. One instructor. Slower pace, our pace. Better results. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks? I'm sure Lily and I can trade stories once she gets here.