My husband is a romantic. When we walked to the lake today, we sat on a white stone bench.
"Give me some space, please," he said.
I slid over and he pulled out a split of champagne and chocolate-frosted, heart-shaped cookies.
We were celebrating his two-year Permis B taking him up to the five years for the Permis C.
We were also celebrating my successful appointment with my adorable oncologist who gave me a clean bill of health.
As we sat in the sun, nibbling and sipping, we also looked at the lake, clouds and Jura. A group of men, women and one boy had three dogs playing in the water. One broke away and ran out onto the dock. He didn't respond to calls. The woman raced behind him.
Because I have Sherlock dog biscuits in my pocket, I thought that might help capture him and I went after him too.
She retrieved the pooch. "He just flew in from Turkey today," she said.
In an international area like Geneva this is not quite as abnormal as it might sound some place else, but there was more to the story.
A local woman rescues Turkish dogs, brings them to Europe and finds them homes. The woman I was talking to him was fostering the dog until a home could be found.
I went back to my champagne, cookie and husband feeling so very, very lucky.