Forever golden

You know all there’s to know about my human mom by now. But what you don’t know is who my real mother was. WAS. Today, she passed away and, suddenly, I’m an orphan, just like M. If it wouldn’t have been for her, I wouldn’t have brightened up my human mom’s life. I wouldn’t have had a head the size of a basketball.  

 

There’s no greater thing than swimming in the sea and that, the love for the water and the sand between my paws I got from her. Mom, I might not have visited as often as I should have (but I have M to blame for that), but you will be missed. I am you and you were me. May you swim in crashing foamy waves of heavenly blue ocean waters forever.

The best is yet to come

I flirted with the idea of starting a new parallel blog that would reminisce about my years without M. I would have called it The Best Years Are Yet To Come and I would have divided it in two chapters, The City Boy and The Rural Boy. I would have talked about all those late Bucharest outings and all the stuff that not even M is entirely aware of (like that time I met Maurice for the first time). I would have then written about moving back to M's hometown and how it feels like to sleep under the clear skies, to swim in the clear waters of the river that crossed the orchard. I might have even given an exact account of the puzzling way I got microchipped for the second time (M would have loved that!). However, I decided not to: the years that matter are the ones we spend together and not apart.

And with that being said, let's get this blog writing!

5 years later

I could have waited for another couple of weeks to chew on it, maybe revamp the design, migrate to WordPress (hello 2017!), but then again, we shouldn't wait any longer, we shouldn't waste any stories. That's my resolution for this year: WE SHOULDN'T. So, while I'll either try to convince M to pay for my monthly Squarespace subscription or to learn to HTML the shit of this blog, here's the latest news: we have moved to Berlin. Word to the wise, be careful what you wish for, kids, because you just might get it (see my previous post). The rest is just geography.

 

As a token for your patience (not that I had too many readers checking out my blog recently), here's the both us, going all traditional and checking Christmas off list in Vienna. Yes, I peed at Schönbrunn and it felt grand.

happy new year, chaps!

new year's resolution:
travel afar

HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY

Pet travel rules from 1 January 2012

From 1 January 2012 a blood test will only be required for pets entering the UK from unlisted third countries. for more details, clickety click

let the countdown begin! be right back, I'll go start packing my leash and toys

long live skype

it's a sad day today,

M left away
(no rhyme intended)

it's been a long way back

hamburg train station

budapest train station

but we made it safe and sound. we left on Sunday morning and arrived on Wednesday morning. we made a few stops along the way, so there's no need to call the RSPCA. next time we're DEFINITELY taking the plane, though talking adventure it was 100% worthwhile

should i call and make a reservation

here?

a Duck by the sea

and this is how I roll

closer than i thought

the piggest pig

You live in a flat, and then you move to Denmark and get a new place with a small little garden, and then you dream about the summer and the sun, the wireless floating around the backyard and your dog’s new playground.

I bet she did. But I have a broader perspective: I want a hotter summer and a bigger backyard. Although my broad perpespective stops short of wishing for a climate change (though I try not to recycle as often as I should), I aim instead for the multi-tasking-ball-field 50m left to our lego-sized garden.
First, I tried to snake my way out through the shrubs, but M acted quickly and found a new use for billy, the ikea bookcase. She planted it around the backyard, giving a new meaning to Danish design and a new obstacle for me to contemplate.

Not for too long though… since we, the Golden Retrievers, are well known for our intelligence (living proof that blondes and brains do go together).
Therefore, this morning I switched my stab-the-shrubs strategy to something more… elevated. I tried to jump over the fence, with the elegance and agility of a purebred stallion.
Said I tried, ‘cause M saw me just in time and took my Black Beauty ass back in the house.

the deer park(ing)

Went to the deer park the other day,


but somehow both me and M ended up in the parking lot: there was a “no dogs allowed” sign at the entrance. What were they thinking? I wouldn’t have run after a deer in a zillion years. I have standards, you know? I run ONLY after balls.
But at least you can’t say I wasn’t close enough. And I did have a hell of a ride.

how to retrieve a ball in three easy steps

i am still here, waiting for the summer

meet cindy

yes, in case you were wondering, the ball is mine

OH, no!

denmark isn't the happiest place on earth anymore. still, beside boasting strong social safety nets, question remains: was it ever?

new kid on the block

jump for joy. 1, 2, 3

I wanna go bathe in the sea

“But what’s stopping you?”, I bet that question’s already popped in your mind. And in a weird way you’re damn right to be asking yourself that. Because, not only am I living in Denmark, but I also happen to live in a city near the sea (not much of a surprise given the geographical coordinates of Denmark, but still).
So, what seems to be the problem?
My problem revolves around the ever lasting Machiavellian question: the means to an end.

Yes, we could walk. Leave today and arrive, if lucky, by the end of the month.
Yes, we could go by car. But we do not own one.
On the other hand, we do have a klipkort, so we could take the bus. But wait, we cannot take the bus because dogs aren’t allowed in local buses. Still, there might be another possibility, maybe two:

M could play the part of a lifetime, that of a blind person, but we don’t joke about these things here, so definitely a big thank you, but no, thank you. Actually we do (political correctness is not in our vocabulary) but to be honest, it would be harder for me to act as a well trained dog who listens to his master e.g. doesn’t pull, run or sits wherever he likes.
Second possibility, M could carry me in a backpack. Yeah, right. As this could ever come close to a possibility.

So, here I am, so close to the sea, yet the farthest I have ever been from it. Isn’t it ironic?

let’s talk Christmas

Seems I jumped to conclusions a bit too hastily ‘cause you’re about to read something you’ve never read before.
Earlier and below I cried myself to tears that this Christmas is going to be the loneliest and saddest ever. Well, these holidays turned out miraculously well after all. And yes, if you ask me, I got startling news for you: Santa Claus really exists!
If you ever skimmed through Journalism for dummies, this means you already know that one should check the truthfulness of a piece of information from at least two reliable sources before making it a headline story. I and M make two, so pay attention to our breaking news:

Denmark: Why Santa really exists up north

What seemed to be just another manic Monday at the library for M, turned out to be more than expected. Asked by a Danish friend (later referred to as K) when she is going home for Christmas, M was once again realizing that this year she might as well join the ranks of the many who account for the highest suicide rate during a calendar year. But on this particular Monday, things went a lot different. Maybe unusually different. Unlike other Danish colleagues, K invited M over for Christmas. That, I must say, you don’t take for granted. And if you are a stranger who ever lived/still lives in Denmark, you know what I mean.
And if this wasn’t good enough, what was supposed to be a one day trip on the 24th December for M, turned into a four day trip for the both of us (*proof no 1 that Santa exists). After an entire night waiting for our Christmas packages from back home at Rutebilstation (the bus was only 5h 30min late), we headed up north and stopped in a small village on the Kattegat shore.
And so the fairytale begun. First, we went to get a Christmas tree. But for that we needed a saw. No, not the movie, not even the sequels. A real saw. Because we went into the forest to look for our Christmas tree, which we cut down all by ourselves (though I must admit I didn’t play a major role in this one, I was just doing my tree-dance around) (**proof no 2 that Santa exists). I thought we might as well meet some elves on the way, but they turned out to be another family looking for a Christmas tree. Nothing unusual. At least, not around here. ‘cause where I’m coming from, trees can be picked up only from the MAR-KET. OK, maybe sometimes from a SU-PER one. But still, this is not super. SU-PER is to pick it up from the über forest, the biggest retail chain store in Europe.
But the fun didn’t stop here. It went on and on for the next 3 days, during which I visited all K’s relatives, walked on the sea (yup, Jesus is not the only one who can do that, I can also do it on frozen waters), ate charcuterie (duck eats duck, I revolutionized the food chain), ran in the middle of the white nowhere, received Christmas presents, tried to hump everybody.

By far, the best Christmas ever. And farthest.

Rumor has it that Danes are cold. They are indeed. But, like in every corner of the world, be it sunny or freezing, you can find those individuals who can sometimes make up for the whole. And, ironically enough, you start to like the Danes again and regain hope that at some point they will all open up like on a snowy Christmas day. Everyday.

too floor for the cool

new year's resolutions

retrieve more balls
swim in the sea
travel around
last, but not least, write more on my new blog. i mean THIS blog

good morning sunshine

I’m living the dream

Not the American dream, but rather the Alaskan one. Truth be told, the Alaskan Malamute dream. Everywhere I look I see snow. OK, I also see M freezing, still taking pics of me (strange creature that she is). But the rest is snow. Snow in which I roll and run, snow which I smell and eat, snow which I love. I feel like I’m somehow crossbred and I’m the first Golden Alaskan Retriever.