Einstein

When Amadeus and Albert, my two Japanese chins, went to the great dog biscuit factory in the sky I was left with lots of wonderful memories and some less wonderful ones like the horror of five international flights with dogs, which although they ended with healthy pups, were a worry. After we moved to Toulouse, a while back, my neighbor, Anne a 13 year old who later had a successful liver transplant, renamed them Einstein and Mozart, and as long as I lived in the neighborhood they were known by that, except when they were called the musician and the brain, which in Albert’s case was more complimentary than factual.

Recently a friend named her new pup Mozart and this weekend I was in Schwyz visiting a friend and former colleague and her St. Bernard pup Einstein, who although only four months is already bigger than an adult Lab.

This Einstein has a gentle soul and is a lover of slippers. I found my slipper-shod foot surrounded by his mouth, although no pressure was applied. He rolled his eyes up with a gee-it-would-be-nice but accepted my decision to remove foot and slipper from my mouth.

My friend’s house looks out on snow covered fields leading into a pine wood. I did not roll down the blinds because I wanted to wake to the beauty. Because I left my room door closed, my slippers were still on the floor in the morning.

As I write this Einstein is laying on the rug at my feet, his head on one of the slippers, a worthy compromise.