A Big Fish. Or, How I Came to Love a Basset Hound.

Today at 12pm we said goodbye to Molly. This is the end of an era, really. David and I were married in July of 1997 and three months later we welcomed Molly into our home. Had we known what the next ten years had in store, we might have promptly booted her right back out. Be that as it may, those ten years were filled with loving (and sometimes loathing) a smelly, hairy, whiny hound who loved children, pirogies, the Christmas ham and anyone who was willing to touch her.

I could take this in a million directions. As many of you know, Molly has been sick for some time now and yesterday we realized it was time to end her suffering. But I don't want to focus on that. Instead, I want to celebrate her as the very special dog that she was. Everyone we know had a unique relationship with Molly and she was something of a Rutkowski family icon. She lived life on her terms and she never regretted a thing. She made friends everywhere she went. I mean everywhere she went. Miss Congeniality of the dog set.

So briefly, here are some of the greatest hits of the Decade of Decadence a la Molly.

Molly peed in the backseat of our Nissan Bluebird on our first Thanksgiving. The smell never did come out.

The next spring, Molly raced headlong into her very first wave. As she barreled down the beach, David and I just stared. When she hit the chilly spring water, waves crashing all around, she retreated sputtering and shivering. She never went in the ocean again.

Molly used to attack my toes when she was a puppy. Molly wasn't well known for attacking things. But my toes knew.

She used to love to chase crows on the beach in Japan. They would flutter away and land. And the game was on again, with Molly chasing down the beach.

Everyday, she rolled poor Olaf down the hill by our on-base house in Japan. That poor little dog didn't know what hit him. He finally got wise and would hide behind us when he saw her coming.

Molly once ate a rock to spite us. We discovered something was seriously wrong at the start of a long 4th of July weekend. The Japanese vet charged at least an arm to extract the offending stone. Molly, of course, lived happily ever after.

Molly was nearly killed by snow monkeys. Ask Josh about that story.

Molly was adept at scoring unsuspecting pirogies. This is particularly impressive given her height vs. the counter height.

I twice found Molly eating mac and cheese at the kitchen table when David left the bowl to answer the phone or tend to business.

Molly once got lost in the foothills of Albuquerque. She was gone for over two hours and we thought the coyotes got her. She was just checking stuff out.

Molly used to be a mad backpacker. Believe it or not. The dog hiked miles and miles uphill in foul weather. I have witnesses.

Molly loved New Mexico green chiles. I only gave her the mild ones, but still.

Two years running, Molly scored the Christmas ham. And the quiche. And some rolls. You get the idea.

Molly never spent a day in a kennel. I think that is both a testament to Molly and to our friends and family. Shouts out in particular to Dave & Gina, Josh & Carmen, Abe, Kyle and our neighbor Pam.

Molly told outlandish stories that usually involved her leading a country or shady business deals.

As an old woman, Molly wore crazy hats and bright red lipstick. She drove a crappy convertible Cadillac recklessly and she loved bluegrass.

In her twilight she still marauded the trash whenever she got a chance.

Until the day she died, I never could leave a loaf of bread unattended on the kitchen table.

Molly loved to smell the roses. And the poo. She especially loved to roll in the poo. To David's chagrine.

And she loved everyone she knew.

For my dead homie, Molly Ann. 4-20-97 to 5-24-07

F*#k the USDA

We are in a vicious (at least from my perspective) battle with the incompetents (or downright malicious assholes) at the USDA whose good graces we are reliant upon to stamp a certificate that verifies Stella's health and fitness to enter Germany. The woman who we are forced to interact with is a surly termagent - a real beauracrat on the federal dole who doesn't think she needs to a) do her job or b) be nice. She has twice given us misinformation and has been abusive to the UI vets who have had the misfortune to deal with her. This absolute piece of work has done such a bang up job that we are either going to have to drive to Springfield to get her evil stamp or we are going to have to deal with this when we get to Pennsylvania. If we opt for the latter, I am hopeful that this grouch issue isn't a USDA pandemic. We'll see. Aaaaaaaack!

We have about 10 days left in Urbana and we are in the middle of packing our crap for the international move. We've decided since we have almost nothing fragile and very little stuff in general that we are going to pack it ourselves and save $350, which we can spend at Ikea! Right now we are deliberating about what kitchen stuff to pack. It won't be there for about 8 weeks and I am wondering if I want to be 8 weeks without a whisk. David and I have agreed to take the "good" stuff we own but can do without for a few weeks. For instance - the nice bread pan. I probably won't feel a compelling urge to make bread for at least 6 weeks and if I can't help myself and absolutely MUST make muffins, I'll just resign myself to picking up an extra tin in Germany and being the proud owner of 2 muffin tins when our shipment arrives. Otherwise, we are making a trip to the local "mart" to pick up spatulas and other basics.

Whew - next up is the international paperwork required for the move. I'm not really sure what this entails, but I'll find out next week.

What else?

Molly is in terrible shape. She is in constant pain and misery and we are just in knots about what to do. This has been going on for nearly 6 weeks and I just feel like we maybe aren't doing right by her. I think we are going to make an appointment the vet for Monday and get his opinion. God, what a year of the dog. More on this later. I hate emoticons - otherwise I would put a sad face here.

Ok, well, back to packing.

Diaper dog & moving

As some of you know, Molly isn't doing so hot. She has apparently herniated a disk in her back and walking is very difficult for her. She has been on steroids for nearly two weeks and there hasn't been much improvement. Fortunately, she does not seem to be in pain anymore and she is able to pee and poo on her own - although she has to be carried outside. The steroids are making her absurdly incontinent, which lends her a constant aroma of urine. This is on top of her already stinky state.

While Molly looks to be permanently disabled, I don't think we will have to take drastic measures (whew!). It looks like she will just be a bit slower and clumsier than before - so it's manageable. True to form, Molly is causing some difficulties during her illness. As I mentioned, she is incontinent so we have resorted to diapering her. I picked up some cheap diapers at the Dollar General and cut a whole for her tail and wrapped her up. This doesn't do much for the catastrophic accidents, but it does contain the frequent "leakage." Thank goodness the incontinence should abate as her steroid dose goes down - this dog is a raging mess when she wants to be.

At first I thought she would be humiliated by her diaper but, as Joshua puts it, a diaper is a modern convenience for Molly. It really frees up her time and allows her to conserve even more precious energy!

Molly also won't be able to fly with us to Germany. She will never pass German customs and no respectable vet would certify her to fly. So, for the near future, she is moving to Morgantown, WV - home of the Moutaineers and Pittsnogle! Neither the Mountaineers nor Pittsnogle are going to care for Molly, though. For this we are thankfully relying on Joshua and Carmen. Then, once Molly is able to fly, she will be escorted by her U.S. entourage to Hamburg. Is anyone surprised that Molly is doing this on her terms?

On a tangentially related note, the moving guy came this week and estimated our shipment at 2000 lbs. I think he's mad, but whatever. We are charged for the actual weight and volume and I guess it's better to over estimate than to totally low ball us. So, we are going ahead with this mover and they are scheduled to pick up our shipment on the 23rd of May.

On the 25th of May, we are meeting my brother is St. Louis. Roger is flying in with Marcia to pick up our old VW Beetle and tow it back to AZ with our truck for safekeeping. Then, the plan is to sell our truck in AZ. I don't think it will fetch a better price in the West, but everyone is happy and the Bug is going to someone who can appreciate its history. And we don't have to try to sell our truck at the very last minute before we move. This does leave us without a car for a week, but the bus system around here rocks and gas is so bloody expensive we've been avoiding driving anyway.

So, we've got a month left in the U.S. and we are defending our dissertation in 3 days (ack!). The countdown is on - standby for shit to get stupid.

Apartment!

Ok, so after a long virtual hunt (and a number of virtual rejections), we found a place to call home.

This is the Wohnbereich


A view from the Kuche



The Essbereich



The Schlafzimmer (isn't that a funny word?)



All for the bargain price of 770 euros a month. This includes heat (yay, me!) and parking - but we don't have a car, so we can put our bikes on some sort of parking spot that has been described to me as a metal cage lift. I am imagining a car elevator - I don't know.

It is in a cool neighborhood close to the university, shops, bars, restaurants and coffee shops. We are also fairly close to the Volkspark, although I have no idea what this means. We are also near to the Repperbahn (read "Red Light District," baby!). Apparently, this is not what we might imagine. The prostitutes have health insurance and the whole thing is regulated. Kooky socialists.

Anyway, it comes with appliances, hard wood and tile floors and big giant French doors that completely open. I am hoping there is some sort of guard rail. Otherwise, I am pretty sure Molly will try her hand at base jumping. I have been told it is about a 30 minute commute to work. If this becomes a pain, I guess we'll move. Just like we did in Albuquerque and Urbana. You get the idea, right? This will likely be home sweet home for as long as we are in Germany because we are so desperately adverse to moving. Let's hope Molly doesn't get us kicked out with her shenanigans.

Job x 2

Good news: Yesterday, I was offered a job at the IEA starting in June. Yay! I am really excited and happy to be (seemingly) gainfully employed. This means no lounging around in my pajamas until 11am. It also means that Molly and Stella won't be getting the 4 walks per day as promised. However, I will get to travel. There are rumors about trips to Chinese-Taipei and South Africa. Wocka-wocka, as Fozzy used to say.

On a related note, we are coming up flat in the flat department. Apparently, apartment hunting is slightly different and more complicated in Germany than in the U.S. In Germany, you "compete" with other interested renters for the privilege of renting the apartment and the owner chooses whoever he likes. This is unlike the "You want the place? You willing to pay the rent? Your credit report is relatively clean? Ok, you can move in on the first" approach that is the norm in the States. I know some condos in U.S. cities use this approach, particularly in NY, but it is rampant in Germany and apparently we are not fitting the bill for these landlords. We have a couple of other prospects and if these don't work out, we'll set up a tent in the park. You can do that in socialist countries, right? Molly and Stella sure won't mind, rest assured.

On the moving front, I chickened out and decided to go with the full service mover. The a la carte places were getting a little overwhelming and the amount of savings was nearly pathetic ($300) for a lot of uncertainty. I knew it was about time to throw in the old "do-it-yourself" towel when I found I was spending about the same amount of time trying to put this move together as I was editing my dissertation. The dissertation won out, as it always does. Ho hum.

But, this adventure is nearly ready for a chapter change. We have three weeks left until we defend. David and I are scheduled for the 9th of May. Did I mention this in an earlier post? Anyway, he is scheduled from 10-12am and I am scheduled from 12:15-2:15. We'll have just enough time to slap high-fives as he comes out of one room and I go in another. We are calling it the "double-header." Let's just hope we win, or come out relatively unscathed.

Molly torture

It has been dawning on me that we have a problem: Molly is going to get us kicked out of our apartment. Not because she will gnaw through door frames, poop on carpeting and spread it around or because she is inclined to attacking children. If you know Molly, you know all of that is pretty laughable; however, she is a chronic howler - particularly if she feels personally wronged. Molly feels wronged often, hence the problem. Reading and talking with Germans has illuminated the fact that Germans are nearly mad for their privacy, peace and quiet. This means no dumping glass recycling after 8pm, no wild dance parties and no, absolutely no, howling Bassets.

Unfortunately, I can't reason with Molly. And largely due to my own personal negligence, she is nearly untrainable at 10 years old. This severely limits my options. In fact, I am left with precisely 3 options, 2 of which are not really feasible and have to do with a one way trip to the pound or a one way trip to a sympathetic family member. I wouldn't wish my beloved hound on people I don't really like. I'm certainly not pawning her smelly butt off on family. Soooo, David and I opted for a behavior modification device. David likes to call it Molly's torture device. He says it with an unhealthy grin. That's what 10 years with a Basset hound does to you.

Anyway, the "device" is a collar that has a small box filled with citronella spray and a sound sensitive trigger. You just flip the switch and when she bays - tssssssssssssssssssss, right in her snout. It makes her jump the first time and she does that frustrated sneeze thing that she likes to do when she is upset. The house smells very fresh and citrus-y, kind of like lemon Pledge. I think it will be a slow process because Molly is so very untrained and also kind of dopey, but I am hopeful that doggy association will kick in and she is going to figure out that her racket is what is causing the offending spritz.

I need to price citronella refills - this is going to be a long process, I have no doubt. Hopefully, though, she'll get it and we won't get the boot from an indignant landlord that is wondering what the heck he was thinking when he rented to two Americans with dogs.

Close to a decision

Ok, so here is the latest in the "moving our crap" saga. Actually, it isn't nearly as dramatic nor as exciting as a saga - it's more of a, hmmm..., an anecdote, I guess. By the way, I am developing a fascination with the whole shipping business. It all sounds so romantic, even the job titles: custom house broker, consolidator, freight forwarder (ok, maybe not that one so much). They draw up bills of lading and put your belongings in liftvans. And before that they hopefully palletize and lash your goods. There are weekly sailings and it is all managed by the Federal Maritime Commission. Seriously, the lingo is great. This leads me circuitously to the point - I am nearly settled on a company that I (possibly naively) trust with our crap.

There are basically two (three if you count UPS) ways to move a substantial quantity of stuff across the ocean. You can either go with a traditional shipping company such as Mayflower, United, or (literally) hundreds of other similar movers. The quotes from the legitimate companies have ranged anywhere from $2200 up to about $5000 for 1200 lbs. In general, this has been a port-to-door arrangement where we drop off said stuff in either Chicago or an east coast port city and they do their level-best to get it to our apartment in Hamburg in the neighborhood of 2 months. If we live on a funky street or up more than two flights of stairs, the rate increases.

Option 2: Using a primarily commercial shipping company, I can sort of piece-meal the whole thing together. This means I have to contract with a local company to put our stuff into a big wooden crate (liftvan) and secure it (lash it). The local movers take the stuff to a Chicago warehouse where a freight forwarder draws up the export paperwork, takes the stuff to the dock, and puts it on a big-ass boat in one of those sea-land containers where it waits until it is time for the boat to set sail (about once every 10 days). Before it arrives in Hamburg, we have to arrange for a custom house broker who, for a fee, navigates the import process and clears our goods through customs. Then, we arrange for a local mover to bring our stuff from the warehouse by the port to our apartment. Again, stairs and cobble-stones cost extra. This is all for about $1400-1600.

I am leaning toward the a la carte choice for a couple of reasons. First, they seem a lot less shady. I don't know if because we are small peanuts to them, or what. But they just haven't been as full of promises and bravado as the people who primarily move household goods. Also, the weight isn't such an issue. They ship by the cubic meter (which is a crapload of space) and we get up to a ton (ha! a ton of crap) for the same price. There are two prospects on the horizon going this route: Ted L. Rausch and MHX. If I chicken out or if things just get entirely too complicated, I have what appears to be a reliable back-up on the household mover side.

Oh, one other funny thing. We have a huge collection of these really sturdy Gateway boxes from our last move. I figure they came across the ocean once with computers in them, they'll probably do the job one more time. Anyway, I can't wait to see the customs folks in Germany when they see a crate with 30 Gateway boxes that has paperwork claiming no commercial value. Think we'll get searched?