Intrique at the Town Square

Germans pay some hefty taxes to make sure their countrymen are cared for with health insurance, unemployment money, and maternity leaves. Yet, some people don't bother taking advantage of these assistances. Of course, they most likely aren't contributing any taxes anyway. Their main enjoyment seems to come from drinking a lot of alcohol. Although I shan't generalize, as this is certainly not always true.

They snub most of society's rules and have, what may or may not be, an aversion to the typical comforts in life - a bed, proper cups and such. I am fascinated by these society shunners and I can't help but watch them when I'm in their vicinity.

The Marktplatz is the best spot to observe. And not just because there is a Starbucks there. But who are we kidding, it's because there's a Starbucks there.

And as I walk towards my house of addiction to feed my chai latte needs, one of my favorite homeless people is sitting in front of the grocery market, Kaiser's, next door. That happens to be the place to hang out if you're street livin'. He squats by the wall with his beer bottles and heavily tattooed hands and face and chats inebreiatedly with the shoppers. I find it interesting and sobering (ironically?) that he's three sheets to the wind at 3 in the afternoon. Maybe four or 5 sheets, though. I also appreciate that the Aacheners aren't apprehensive of these Penner. They stop and say hello, make conversation. When I had Mocha, (you remember my favorite geriatric puppy?) he was enamored of her and complimented her shiny coat. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what he was talking about. Drunk German is one I'm not all that good at.

My second favorite town-societal-rule-shunner to watch is the Talker. He's a 30- or 40-something who wears a ponytail and a leather jacket. He likes to ask for money, which isn't all that surprising. I am intriqued by him simply because he talks so much. Most often it's with people I can't seem to see. But he gets on really well with them and is always jovial.

Now that spring is abounding in Aachen, they all have new puppies. Beautiful furry little things that run around the square with their leashes dragging behind them. We rule followers stand on the sidelines looking at the puppies playing and their owners swinging their beer bottles happily in the air. But our lunch break is over and we don't join in.

Responsibility

New experiences are just amazing, aren't they? I really enjoy them. Just as I enjoy learning about dog care.

Mocha started eating grass during one of our walks on Saturday. Clearly, that was a foreboding sign. Our cats always ate grass before they threw-up unpleasantly on the living room carpet. By Monday her grass eating stopped and she was ready to start a wretchin' it on up.

As I was walking towards the Marktet Square to have a Starbucks (go figure) with einer Freundin, Mocha discreetly moved to the side of a building and let go of all the water and foamy saliva in her stomach. The grass pieces floated neatly between the cobblestones of the street and as I stared at it, let's face it, I felt mildly conspicuous.

Later that evening Mocha was not better and during the night we made several trips into the Hof, or the backyard. Now, I take my responsibility to keep this dog alive while her owner is gone quite seriously. That's why I found myself barefoot in the backyard at 2 in the morning following the poor girl around. I'm pretty sure she didn't appreciate my rapt attention to her activities.

The morning only got more chaotic after I woke to two grassy, urp-puddles on the carpet and Mocha panting around the house, desperatly wanting outside again. I left the door open and went to get dressed. When I came back outside to check on my girl, there was no dog in the backyard. I thought "Dear God, I've lost a 13 year old dog in an enclosed backyard." as I madly dashed back through the house, calling after her, dashed back outside, back inside, back outside, and finally crashed through a cluster of trees and bushes to the neighbor's yard where I discovered her digging in the dirt with her nose, seemingly trying to make her discomfort go away. I hugged the old girl and hoisted her back over to our side of the 2-foot wooden fence.

That was the end of it for me. We were off to the Tierartzt to get this dog right again. The dog doctor gave her some shots and said come back in the morning. She should be feeling better in no time.

And I've checked off 'Visit a German Vet' from my Life List.

Dog Days of Aachen

I always wanted a dog in Europe. Ever since I lived in Austria. I'm an animal girl, through and through. I would watch these cute, prancing puppies walking along with their owners and I consoled myself by going home and taking in stray cats and then leaving them with my parents (thanks Mom and Dad).

But now, I'm finally getting the chance to try out my wish. We should all get to try out wishes before we fully commit. That whole "be careful what you wish for" warning wouldn't be nearly as potent.

What I'm discovering is that dog ownership has its charms, for sure. They give you so much warmth and happiness. But I already knew that part. Now I'm getting a chance to face a bit of reality - dog ownership can have some crappy cons. There's a pun intended in there.

On my first walk with Mocha, I proudly led her around the neighborhood, trotting along, la la la. Until she stopped in front of a pretty house, sniffed around the lawn and proceeded to poop in the middle of it. And there I was, cool, temporary dog owner, without any poop bags. I looked about frantically, considering my options. I could only see one way out. Run. But thirteen-year old dogs really don't run. They trot a little, which looks much faster than it actually is. So, in truth, we shuffled back to the house, with me trying hard to look innocent.

One of the definite charms of a dog in Germany is they can go everywhere. She comes with me into Starbucks, into the bank, into the H&M, and no one blinks an eye.

And one thing I must say - get a good looking dog and you'll make friends. People on the street approach me to ask about her or tell me that she has two different colored eyes (maybe I wasn't aware of this?), or ask about her breed. A beautiful dog is a definite conversation piece.

One thing that really smarts, though - and I never thought twice about this before - are the dog owners that don't leash their dogs. More than once has a running-wild-and-free dog charged up to Mocha and started a barking scuffle. And more than once, the owner simply looked at us. This morning, Mocha and I stopped 40 feet away from a man and his dog, waiting patiently for him to leash his beast. As we walked by, the dog barked and growled and strained at his lead. And Mr. Dog Owner said to me accusingly "Wenn er frei waere, wuerd er das nicht machen." Well, let's not find out, shall we?

But it's when we come back and Mocha is dried off from the rain and sleeping lazily near my feet, that I'm once again reminded of the charms of dog ownership.

Thanks to Heather and Mocha for the new experiences.

Beware: New Driver

I'm dog sitting for an American friend of mine who has gone back to the States for a couple of weeks. That also means I'm living in her house. And driving her car. Mocha, an ultra sweet 13-year old, Australian Shepherd and woolly mammoth mix, and I tool around the city German style. German style is German rules, one-way's, and stick shifts. The stereotypical German punctuality even seems to apply to how fast you can take off when the light turns green. I have yet to get this right without a moment of fright. Some of you may recall my panic-inducing experiences driving stick in the mountains of Spain. Really not something I want to repeat. Or recall, for that matter.

But this time around, it's not been so bad. Aside from the parking garage fiasco of 2010 and maybe a slightly burned-out clutch. I'm getting lots better!