Flowers and Thanks

We had so many friends and family from the US reach out to us when we needed it. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Our friends here in Switzerland did some wonderful things. Christine and Reto brought us flowers and the items we needed for a memorial. Peter and Marianne cooked for us. People at work were very kind. We know how lucky we are to have so many wonderful people in our lives. This last photo I'll post of Fiona was taken during a bike ride we did in late April, the flowers seem like a fitting tribute to her.

Family

Pictures of Fiona looking at the camera and with her ears up are pretty rare.  If she was being photographed with one of us, she would rather be looking at us than the camera.  We often tried to get her to look at the camera, but she would fold her ears back and make it look like we were forcing her against her will to be there, and so we always settled for some part of her being in the picture... 

A day trip to Konstanz, Germany.

Northern Italy.

Nice, France.

Bellinzona, Switzerland.

One of the cool things was that even though we were her core family (The three Musketeers), if we had other people along who Fiona believed we considered family - they were also her family for that period of time.   

This weekend, her family was (left to right) Reto, Christine, Ruth, Brian, Paula and Darrell.  (Thanks C and R for the picture).

If you zoom in (double click) to Fiona here, you can see how happy she is to have Paula there!

Coming to Switzerland

For the next series of posts, we are going to focus on Fiona.  Anything else just doesn't feel right.

Ruth and Fiona in Michigan.

The move to Switzerland started with a road trip across country... Bellingham to Newark - there were friends to see on the way, and we wanted a direct flight for Fiona - Newark to Zurich was the key to that.  There were lots of fun adventures on this trip - too many to post here... just some nice pictures.
 

 

Maine...

and Maine again...

Running After A Love One Dies.

Putting on the shoes today was hard.  I needed to run after a long day yesterday.  I picked the route I knew best.  It happened to be the route Fiona (our dog) and I had done the most. 

As I started running the tears came down.  The trail was wet and boney.  Rain drops fell off the leaves of the trees from a hard rain the night before.  Thoughts rushed back to another solitary sad run that I had done twenty years before.  My grandmother, Irma Hancock Sofield, had died.  I don’t remember the day; I don’t remember who told me, or how I received the news.  I do remember thinking; I need to go for a run and I remember everything about it.  The weather, surroundings, trail, were all similar conditions to today’s run.  I ran hard, uphill until it hurt.  My head grew light and the thoughts came rushing out.  My eyes welled up as I thought how helpless I was to death.  And how much I missed my grandmother and how much she meant to me.  All the while my feet keep moving, like they did today.  With no parents left, she had stepped in and loved me unconditionally, and forevermore I will be moving without her.  The air on my face dried my tears.   I vowed to keep her in my thoughts and I ran home a little stronger but more alone. 

Running became my strength and a focus to my life.  The symbolism was strong, me running alone against the world.  As a race would get hard, I would evoke memories of lost ones to keep me strong, focused, centered.  Completing / winning races would bring back a rush of emotions for me, helping me think of my parents, grandmother and others who taught me about life.   Running kept me real, thoughts of loved-ones makes me who I am. 

As I made my way around the familiar loop this morning, I thought of all the good times Fiona and I had.  And of the last run we did together on this trail just a week before.  Always with a smile on her face, she loved to run and loved to be by my side.  However she was almost 14 and had to work hard to stay with me.  Just as she fought hard to breathe when her body was failing. 

Once again my eyes welled up, as I realized how much she meant to me and how much she too had contributed to my life.  She showed me unconditional love, benefits of spreading joy to others, and so much else without saying a word.  Fiona managed to nuzzle her wet nose into my heart.  Something, I didn’t make easy to do.  So, as I struggled to finish the run I thought about how Fiona made me a better person.  Just like other loved-ones had done for me in the past.  

And so to remember and celebrate my loved-ones, I will keep on running.  Running, because that is what Fiona liked more than anything else.

A Tribute to Little One, by Ruth

Fiona was a dog with big eyes that followed me from her cage at the Denver Dumb Friends League (one of the dog shelters in Denver). After I saw her that first time, there was no turning back – she was my dog. Her life seems to be in three main chapters: life with Cayenne, life without Cayenne in Bellingham, and life in Switzerland. The book could also be just 2 chapters: life before Darrell and life with Darrell. In both books, I am sure her favorite chapters would be life with Cayenne, life in Switzerland, and life with Darrell.

At the Dumb Friends, she had to meet Cayenne before I could take Fiona home. It was Halloween in 1997 and all of the people there were dressed in costumes and Fiona’s “case worker” was dressed as a clown with a big colorful wig. We came into the outdoor cage where she was waiting with the clown, Cayenne went up and sniffed her, she rolled over to let him - which was what the clown wanted to see happen, but the whole time Fiona was hugging the legs of the clown. She and Cayenne were inseparable…. He loved to swim, she hated it. She would stand in the water up to her knees barking for him to come back when he was out chasing a ball in the water and then would jump all over him yipping to not go away again because the water is dangerous she seemed to be telling him, she did worry a lot about her family. She kept him young, teasing him to play even when he could barely run after her – and then they would fall asleep together. They had their system in the car worked out – when we weren’t in the car, one took the passenger seat while the other took the driver’s seat, or they kept watch for us to return from the back of the car – each looking a different way, and sounding the alert for the other when they saw us. When we were in the car, they would curl up next to each other – often with Cayenne resting his head on her body. They also had their system for catching the frisbee. Cayenne was bigger (which is how she got her nickname “Little One”), but she was faster. She could catch like nobody’s business – aerials in the air weren’t uncommon… it never failed that just after she landed and got situated, Cayenne would catch up to her like a big bull… she would drop the frisbee for him to bring back and she would come back to us and wait for her next turn…

Life in Switzerland involved a lot of life with Darrell. She had a hard time being by herself after Cayenne died, and we worked it out so Darrell was able to be with her most of the time. The bike cart let her go to the store with him and on bike rides across much of Switzerland. Darrell worked from home, so she would strategically sleep where he couldn’t leave the apartment without her knowing. He made sure she got exercise every day, running with him or beside him on the bike, or skiing – whatever the season called for. She went to lectures at Eawag to learn, came to my German classes, went to our friends houses for dinner where they liked to feed her sausages, would sleep under the table at a restaurant waiting for us to finish, and became an expert at all forms of the Swiss public transportation system – trains, buses, trams, gondolas… She tolerated random children coming up to her to shower her with love and befriended people who were afraid of dogs. Her black rimmed brown oval eyes would follow you as she analyzed what was going on – the eyes, filled with love, intelligence, need… She used these to calm people down, and to wink at Darrell. She was very good at communicating her needs – it wasn’t uncommon to find her head under your armpit or your hand on her back, her ways of saying she wanted to be petted. Sometimes she wanted to be cuddled in the mornings… her special time.

Even this last week, there are so many good memories… an evening walk where she would be behind us sniffing everything then sprinting to catch up, getting her to play chase with us in a field, running in her sleep and barking during a daytime nap, chasing a cat at a friend’s house, a trip to a market where a dog jumped at her barking – she just went on as though nothing happened (I always loved that she really didn’t care about other dogs with attitudes like that, she was just content with us), stopping at the apartment on the second floor like she always did even though we live on the third floor, sleeping on the train, drinking fountain water from my cupped hands, her crying from the back of Darrell’s bike in her dog cart when I got ahead of them on my bike on Monday – life for her was always best when the three of us were together, a Friday evening bike ride where I met Darrell halfway and my first sighting of them was her running down the hill to where I was taking pictures of sheep in a field – the sheep came to investigate her – but she didn’t bother with them, on that same bike ride - a little boy walking on the sidewalk seeing a dog in the cart and a big smile breaking out on his face as he watched her pass, brushing her after a bath and how clean she smelled, keeping her routine of following me into the bathroom when I showered – she took her position curled up under the sink…

We knew she was old, about 14 years, but conversations with people always included disbelief at her age. She just didn’t seem to be 14, not even to us. Her death was quick. I left for work and didn’t know anything was wrong, she seemed fine on her late morning bike ride with Darrell doing chores at the store and library. She collapsed a few hours later from a cancer we didn’t know she had and was dead within hours. We were both with her when she died. We know she had a good life and the thoughts of her with Cayenne now are comforting… but we did both lose one of our best friends that we weren’t ready to lose yet. Rest in peace Little One.  With all of our love.

The Ambassador

For those of you who don't know, our Fiona died unexpectedly today. We'll post more later. Love, Ruth and Darrell.

Family Fun

The Jamisons from California visited us for 4 days. Carol and Manuel have traveled to Europe many times over the past 20 years. They had a lot of good suggestions for where Ruth and I should visit and even knew the best places to eat/ walk in Zurich. They treated us to a fun restaurant called the Zugerkeller. It is housed in what was a 15th century armory, but is now a fun-loving wurst/bier-palace with lots of character. There were 15 different wursts on the menu, including one 40 cm long. I got to try 3 sausages I had not tried before. We enjoyed sharing the weekend together.

Fiona was jealous.

German dog basket.

Fiona saw this pimped out dog basket in Konstanz and suddenly felt like her 'Althundmobile' on the back of Darrell's bike was no longer cool.

Fiona is NOT the Easter Bunny

We have been very lucky to meet many wonderful Swiss people. I've spoken about Iris before - she often dog sits for us - and just adores Fiona. We do consider Iris' house Fiona's second Swiss home. Fiona was with Iris last week during a class she teaches. She brought Fiona for the children to meet and started out by teasing that Fiona is the Easter bunny. When the children said, "no she isn't", Iris said, "But look, she doesn't have a tail, she has to be the Easter bunny". From there, Iris turned it into a lesson for the children on how to approach dogs they don't know. Brilliant, lovely, and caring - that is our friend Iris...

Spring Training

What is Fiona's Favorite Fountain?

Answer: Any one that is low enough for her to drink from.  

Newsflash: Darrell is Out, Ruth is In.

As many know, Fiona and I (Darrell) have spent a lot of time together creating a special bond.  Ruth can't bring Fiona to her lab and we don't like leaving Fiona alone in our apartment.  The solution is that I have spent most of my time with Fiona.  For example Fiona, used to get excited when I put on my jacket and not when Ruth did because Darrell's jacket meant she was going somewhere, not that Ruth was going without her.  Then I went away for a week to a River Restoration Conference in southern Switzerland.   I was gone for 6 days and now that I am home, Fiona practically ignores me.  She wants to be near Ruth all the time, they are inseparable.  When I put on my jacket now, and even call her, she doesn't move from Ruth's feet.  Clearly I am now number 2.

Carnival in Wil

 

On March 3, we went to the Carnival (Fasnacht) parade in Wil.  Lots of people were dressed up, there were fun costumes, but it was mostly monsters - some with glowing eyes. The parade started with a man reading a prepared speech from the third floor window of a large lit up impressive building.  Interspersed with his speech was music (da da daht da da daht) and the crowd in the square jumping in time with it.  The speech lasted for a long time (an hour? - we went for a beer and french fries after we got the gist of what was going on) and was followed by a parade that anyone could join.  

Apparently the Fasnacht festivals vary depending on where you are, even towns 20 km apart can have very different traditions.  In some cantons, the festival has pagan origins and is meant to drive away evil spirits, which is clearly what this Fasnacht was in Wil (in addition to being a nice chance for young men to drink heavily).

http://www.swissworld.org/en/culture/seasonal_customs/carnival/

 

A lot of people had these "balloons"  tied to strings on a stick.  It wasn't until we were leaving a restaurant, where the patrons had considerately left their balloons at the door, that we were able to confirm that they were actually made of an animal's intestines.  The monsters seemed to get a kick out of waiving them in your face, and then later the children had fun bouncing them from their sticks on the ground - they made a nice loud and deep bouncing sound. 

 

Fiona was also intrigued by them...

RMS

Daughter like Mother.

Fiona and I were shopping last week. We pulled up just as a Mom and daughter went into a store. The daughter had a small grocery bag with a serious expression, just like her mom. Then I saw their bikes... check out the tiny basket on the front of the trike.

Languagesde>en GoogleDicCE

Korb, Körbchen, Krätze

I am Lion... Hear me Roar

It was kind of weird, this restored toll Castle in Italy was like Fiona's long lost home. We drove by it, but decided to turn around and stop. Fiona got out of the car, sniffed the air, then a few bushes. She peed into the moat wall like it was hers. In this shot, you can see that she has taken up her patrol at the front gate like a lion, Roar!

Flying Dog

Fiona is 13 years old, so it is pretty funny to see how excited she gets around snow. She loves to race after us on a downhill. I am amazed by how fast she can go. Europe still hasn't adopted a Methow Valley (Washington)-style Doggy Dash, so we will have to wait another year to compete. Are there age-divisions in the Doggy Dash? Fiona wants a Doggy Marathon.

Good Book: The Hunger Games

Ruth is on a reading craze thanks to my sister who sent among other things, the Hunger Games trilogy (she is reading the 2nd one here). She reads everywhere, include the 14 minutes between train connections. PS. Fiona, saw me run off to the left of the picture in search of some wine. She is still looking for me, 10 minutes later.

Fiona barks in English and Who is that woman?

Fiona stayed with our friend and her children the weekend we went to Stoos. Her daughter had a birthday party that same weekend and Fiona was well loved from what we are told. Our friend told the children that Fiona talks in English, so they would have to talk to her in English. They wanted to know how she could tell that Fiona talks in English... "listen to her bark" they were told... Anyone who knows Fiona knows that she rarely barks, and true to form, she never said a thing in English (or otherwise) for the kids.

That same weekend, we were at a ski club hut with friends from work. Spending the weekend with them meant we all got to know each other a little better. The following week at work, one of my colleagues said she found it funny that Darrell was always talking about Fiona... "Fiona and I went skiing", "Fiona and I went shopping" , "Fiona Fiona Fiona...". If you didn't know better, you would think Fiona was another woman... :)

Fiona Likes Fondue Too!

Ruth and I have learned that the best part of cheese fondue is the residue stuck to the side of the pot when you are finished. Fiona agrees!

Fiona is well taken care of

Yesterday, we went for a run on the south and southwest side of the Zurichsee (lake).  We ended in a town called Wädenswil with a very good brewpub.  After we were settled in and had Fiona's leash looped around a chair, the waitress asked if Fiona wanted some water.  When we said yes, she brought the dog bowl from the kitchen and a dog bone for her.  Such a nice feature of living in Europe!