“Hey Mom. Did you see this morning’s ’24 Heures’?”

Why No Juno, I haven’t. Why the long face?

“Poppy’s in the paper.”

When Expatriates Take Their First Steps in Vaud

Oh! How exciting Juno! Thank you for pointing it out for me!

“Poppy’s in the paper Princess? I don’t get it. I don’t smell Poppy. And that paper doesn’t look big enough to hold Poppy…”

“Sigh. Not that kind of ‘in’ Doofus. Anyway, I’m not pleased with the story.”

“Princess, it doesn’t taste like Poppy either.”

“Hush up Big Boy. It says here that Poppy said that he came to Switzerland to ride bikes through the vineyards.

“It says nothing about “les chiens” or “le hoooskie.”

“Princess, I keep tasting and tasting this and I still don’t get a sense for Poppy in this paper.”

“Must I spell everything out for you Big Boy? Poppy told all of Switzerland that he came here for the cycling!”

Loosely translated:

Between China and the Local Vineyard
Mr. Wild Dingo is marketing director for the company producing microscopic elements for electronic chips, Applied Materials, in Cheseaux sur-Lausanne. He travels extensively in Europe and in China. This American from Silicon Valley arrived in June with a fortunate expatriate contract that includes housing and ‘relocation’ services. With just a phone call he gets answers to his questions, like how to fill his oil tank (in the house*). “I learned that there was a label on the tank with a telephone number of the supplier. And finally the person I got on the line spoke perfect English.” Mr. Wild Dingo has a three-year contract. “My wife and I are going to enjoy learning French and riding bicycles in the beautiful vineyards located just two minutes from our house in Tolochenaz. There is nothing like it the United States. Everything is miles away. ”

“I’d like to also point out Mom, that our house in California is next door to a vineyard. I mean, what was Poppy smoking when he did this interview?”

“Princess we should tell Poppy that smoking is bad for his health.”

“When he sold me on this move to Switzerland, he promised me many snowy hikes in the Alps and snowshoeing adventures. But did he mention les chiens? No! With no snow yet on the the ground, I’m beginning to think he sold me a wooden nickle.”

“But I don’t see any wooden nickles around here Princess…”

Darn. Leave it to the French Swiss to tick off my Husky. Obviously the meaning was lost in translation. Firstly, our home in California sits next to many vineyards, but I think Mr. Wild Dingo meant that in California, if you live in town, to ride near a vineyard, it’s miles away. Whereas where we live here in Tolochenaz, we live very close to a town but very close to beautiful riding trails through the vineyards. In addition, in California one cannot ride or walk through the vineyards like we do here:

It feels like we’re walking through someone’s backyard or personal farm, but the sign just before this path showed it was a pedestrian path.

It’s true. We don’t get the privelege of walking through the farmlands like this in the States. In CH, there are thousands of miles of public walking trails (with almost nobody on them) that wind through the vineyards or the farms.

“Ya? Well that doesn’t explain the lack of comments about ‘les chiens’ or ‘le hoooskie,’ Mom.”

That’s because, secondly, the reporter left out the most important reason why we came here: to entertain our Husky of course! As if there would be any other reason to come to Switzerland. Mr. Wild Dingo assured me he told the reporter many stories of the dogs and the newly installed fence.  But leave it to the Swiss to find excitement in us figuring out how to call to get our oil tank filled.

“Well as long as that’s clear, I suppose I can let this slide. But let the record show I plan to register a complaint with that reporter. After all, he left out the most important facts.”

“Oh my Dawg, Princess! I finally see where Poppy is! He’s so small. And flat! What happened to my Poppy?”

“Oh Criminy Big Boy! Is your brain really as holey as the cheese they make here?”

In other news, we found out Swiss Air will be starting direct flights to Zurich in June, which makes it a whole lot easier on us to fly with the dogs. No airlines will fly an animal with a layover. We were planning to drive to and fly from L.A. But now that’s one less leg of the trip we have to worry about.

And Loki and Juno remain up to their usual mischief causing quite a stir outside the Swiss Consulate:

Meanwhile, at the consulate’s office, I picked up about 37 thick brochures on Switzerland. As I picked them out, Mr. Wild Dingo claimed that I did not need “Gourmet Switzerland.” Silly Mr. Wild Dingo! Internet, can you believe he actually thinks I’m going to cook while I’m on my two-year vacation?

Wild Dingo is relocating from Northern California to Luasanne, Switzerland. I know. Insane. I can’t even freaking believe it myself. To answer the obvious: YES we can bring our dogs, with no quarantine.  That was the fist thing we thought about before we even considered the move.

Next question: Yes, it’s because Mr. Wild Dingo’s job is transferring him. Actually, he recommended himself for the new position in August, but a transfer from the U.S. to a Europe office takes a long time so we never really knew until Thanksgiving, when he returned home from a visit out there. That day he needed a beer.

Next question: Yes, we’re keeping our newly built mountain home. The transfer is temporary for two or three years. Which will fly by in a blink of an eye I’m sure.

Next question: We think the move won’t happen for two or three months. Though Mr. Wild Dingo’s new boss wants him to start immediately. So he’ll most likely be gone a lot until we move.

Next question: Yes, I’m working on paperwork and passports for Loki and Juno so they can travel easily throughout Europe. I mean, what else am I going to do there, work? Silly readers. Wild Dingo barely works as it is. Or at least, that’s what Mr. Wild Dingo says.  No instead, we’ll be working with a tutor (and not Dex’s tutor thank dog!). But this tutor will help us learn better French. We already speak it, but we want to speak it so they understand us. It’d be nice not to get pointed at and hear “silly American!” And my other activities there will be hopefully, dog training Loki in a sport, as well as day and weekend travel trips, Amelie-style with postcards of the two in famous places. Well, that’s the plan. Nothing ever goes to plan. I mean, we didn’t “plan” to move to Switzerland, did we?

Now for the Winners!

First, thank you all for playing my silly game. It was too fun and I hope to do more like it in the future. You all made me giggle every day and in this day, in this time, that is no small feat. So you are all winners in my book. And for that, Planet Blue Dog asked me to pass on this PAWESOME discount of 10% off if you mention the code: HOWLIDAYS.

The Winner of the Contest was Darwin of The Evolution of Darwin!

Darwin Won:

Chase It…Dogs Love It!
Fun for puppies, dogs, cats and people of all ages. Grab onto the ergonomic handle and move the toy in a circular, zig zag or lunging motion and watch your pets enthusiastic reaction! At first, most pets do not realize a human is activating it. A game of chase has never been this much fun! The toy is attached with a velcro strap and, therefore, is replaceable. The Chase-It collapses (telescopic) to 18″ and extends to about 48″.

Salmon Paws
Human-Grade Wild Salmon caught in the pristine waters of Alaska. Unlike many other salmon treats out on the market today, it is made from 100% Pure Salmon Meat with NO Bones, Fillers or other ingredients. Only the finest salmon is used to hand-make these premium pet treats. You can try it too! It makes an excellent training treat, because it brakes up easily into small pieces without crumbling.

And she also won:

A Pair of Jodhpurs!Designed specifically by Juno Belle Jodhpurs and fit exculsively for Darwin’s size.

Juno Belle Jodhpurs jodhpurs are low maintenance jodhpurs.No laundering and no pressing is required. Just floof, walk and be prepared for the compliments! 

And becuase I’m the boss and can change the rules of the contest, I’m announcing three runner-up winners who made me smile: 

1. The Bougalou Bear from Say What?  Oh my dog, that guess still has me smiling!
2. Dozer & Dotti of also Say What  because lingere in those colors, well, only clowns could get turned on by that.
3. Mack of Mack’s Mess, because he guessed “moving” first, but not the full news. Also because he really seems sad about missing panytloons and jodhpurs, and I’d like to give him a Christmas wish.

Each of you will receive a pouch of Salmon Paws from Blue Planet Dog and a free pair of Juno Belle Jodhpurs jodhpurs.  Please email me at info at wilddingo.com your shipping address and include a photo of your derrière  (that’s French for butt), so I can size them for you!

All of you made me laugh this week. And for those who guessed another puppy or a Swiss mountain dog puppy, you’d have to be crazy to think I’d get myself another dog. I have enough gray hairs. Anyone with more than two dogs in my book is officially whack-a-doo (but my kind of whack-a-doo).   Thank you so much for playing! I’m so glad I can take you with me to Europe via cyberspace!

“We had absolutlely nothing to do with this.  And if you ask one more question, we’re calling our lawyer.”

How lucky am I to have a brother (who’s not really a “dog” person)  fly down from Seattle to dog sit my two monsters, err… lovely canines while I took a visit to the East Coast for Mr. Wild Dingo’s ancient reunion at Annapolis and a visit to my parental units?  Sure, I cajoled and bribed him with free yoga classes, a full tank of gas in the convertible mini cooper, museum tickets, a stocked fridge and a gift certificate to Nicks in Los Gatos. But seriously, who would fly across 2 states just to dog sit?  AND on top of it, post a few blogs about them while I’m away?

I’m thinking he:

1. is an awesome person to do such a rediculous favor
2. really wanted to do yoga for free
3. was sick to death of me begging him
4. secretly liked my dogs
5. figured he’d put this favor in the bank for when he needs something rediculous from me

So, TravelMarc came down for eight days, and TravelMark came along for 3 or 4. TravelMarc endured a wildfire only 8 miles away, a wind storm, power outages and a fallen tree. He insisted that Loki & Juno were the best behaved dogs he ever dog sat. Wow! Now that’s some honor! Wait a minute… just how many dogs has he ever dog sat anyway??And seriously, how gullible does TravelMarc have to be to believe the Sibe who claimed the bunnies stole his shoe, not once but twice? Seriously TravelMarc. These dogs=not good!

The worst part of the TravelMarx’s generosity? They left a meatloaf in the fridge for us when we got home. Rats. Now I’m really in the hole!

We didn’t take many photos in Annapolis. That’s mostly because we were, errr… incapacitated a lot.

Is it me, or is this bench happy to see me?

The B&B we stayed in in CT.

Part of the back yard at our B&B. There’s something dreadfully wrong with this photo. There are no dogs running amuck this grand green yard!

Must keep photo away from dogs or I will pay dearly for not taking them with us. It’s good to be back. We’ll catch up with all the cyber-dog-pals shortly.

Where is she? Tell us or else.

Juno guarding Loki.

Wicket pickets!

“We’ll just stay right here in ‘our’ office, and stay out of trouble, until you get back mom…”

Ya, right. Um, TravelMarx? A bit of advice. Hide your shoes.

I shook my head in disbelief. Someone wants to hire me to criticize their web site? You mean, they want to hire me to be…mean? Surely this can’t be. Being mean is one of my favorite things to do. I like being mean so much that I even married a mean guy. No, he’s not wife-beater mean. He’s mean like, “Jules, your mouth RPM’s are going faster than your pedaling-RPMs” mean. Or mean like, he tries to make me give him my heart rate monitor when I’m riding my bike to make sure I’m working hard enough. And mean like, when he sees a neighbor with trash decorating his front yard, he’ll comment so sarcastically, that I can’t help but gush with love.

Yes, it’s true. I like mean people. And I like being mean. But mostly, I like being mean about ridiculous stuff like poor marketing, bad products, bad advice, bad ideas, bad design and bad taste. And the list goes on. This is probably why I bonded so well with the dingo. She wasn’t a “nice” dog at all. No, in fact, she was a bit mean.  When I first met her, she ate my underwear. But they were an ugly pair of underwear, so she was justified. Yes, we understood each other quite well. Our tolerance for idiocracy was equally matched which made us a nice pair. 

Even one of my peers in my yoga teacher training program called me “sadistic.” I took it as a compliment. It makes you want to come to one of my classes, huh? Secretly, you’re dying to know just how mean I am in a yoga class.

Once I worked for a company that didn’t treat its customers very well. Our marketing department had to design holiday cards for the customers. My idea was to write “Happy Holidays” on the cover, and “you son of a b—ch,” on the inside. That idea didn’t go over too well. Although the V.P. found it so humorous, he shared it with his wife, who would later send me Christmas cards that said exactly that!

I get a lot of clients who tell me their customers have difficulty logging in. The problem is usually user-error. So sometimes when I’m designing a web site that features “login” functions, I secretly want to write in the re-direct page, “Whoops! You moron! You didn’t type your username or password correctly.  Go back to high school and learn to type. Then come back here and try again.”  Needless to say, this never goes over well. Still, it can’t hurt to fantasize.

But when I was being hired to be mean, well, I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. Sigh. Once in a while, the universe throws me a delectable bone, just like this. And I savor every bit of it.

Of course I had to balance all my criticisms with some useful constructive feedback of better ways to design, marketing and develop content. You can’t exactly be taken seriously if you don’t have better alternatives to present. Still, I delighted in being mean, err …being a critic and getting paid for it so much that I’m considering adding “constructive critic” under my list of services. But perhaps I should discount it. It doesn’t seem right to make too much money having that much fun.

While you all are enjoying this lovely weather in Santa Cruz Mountains:
 

(yes, that’s SNOW on my driveway)

I’ll be trying to twist myself into a pretzel on some island off of Mexico here:

If you have a Web emergency, I apologize. I will not be available as I will be doing my best to balance on one handed handstand in lotus pose while drinking a margarita. 

Hasta la vista babies!

Ya, she now has her own logo. The brat. But I still have to post her face all over this site. She is the boss after all.

Wild Dingo has been remiss to publish the news about the passing away of it’s favorite partner in crime, Mr. ShyGuy, the basset next door. A few weeks ago, ShyGuy was diagnosed with congestive heart failure and within about a week, he passed away. It’s been a few weeks now and the time feels right to write a little something about the little dog who tolerated Maggie.

ShyGuy met Maggie in the usual way most dogs meet her, with Maggie launching a full blown barking attack while bouncing around like an electron. ShyGuy just looked at her and wagged his tail. From there it was best friends forever.

Maggie and ShyGuy became known as the founders of the neighborhood dog walking club. Maggie and ShyGuy would walk together almost daily, looking for trouble. They were so popular, that people who didn’t even own dogs wanted to belong to the club.

ShyGuy tolerated Maggie’s daily barking fits as he knew her to be a bossy broad. But he seemed to like that about her. When each visited the other’s house, they’d always chow down the kibble in the other’s bowl. Maggie would barge in to ShyGuy’s house uninvited, while ShyGuy seemed to have better manners, always waiting to be invited in before charging for her bowl.

On their daily adventures, we’d joke about how Maggie was about “quantity” covering more ground than ShyGuy, bouncing around well ahead of him by miles, while ShyGuy was about “quality” inspecting every square inch he covered, lingering over every dead animal, discarded TV dinner or mole hole. He taught Maggie patience. She learned to wait while he inspected a dead deer carcass or a carpenter’s discarded tortilla lunch.

The beauty of their friendship was tolerance. Each tolerated each other’s strange quarks. And ShyGuy was fiercely loyal to Maggie, backing her up whenever she barked at strangers or strange dogs. Often to his own detriment! Maggie sometimes would start fights with other dogs and then let ShyGuy take the fall. Poor Shy, he learned Maggie’s tricks the hard way. Still, he loved her.

And Maggie loved ShyGuy too. Although ShyGuy went everywhere with his owner, Anouk, on rare occasions, he’d be left home alone. And he’d let the neighborhood know about it. He’d howl sadly for feeling lonely and Maggie would call back to him letting him know he wasn’t alone. And within five minutes he’d grow quiet again, happy to hear her familiar voice.

Aside from Maggie and me, ShyGuy’s biggest fan was Scott, who would light up when ShyGuy visited him in the garage. Probably because ShyGuy reminded Scott of our beloved Moosh, with his low key disposition, sad but endearing face and general misbehaving boyish character. ShyGuy always knew that he could find treats and scratches with Scott.

By now, Maggie knows ShyGuy is gone. She sensed it the last week when he wasn’t feeling well, paying much more attention to him then usual almost trying to diagnose him. And when she visited after he was gone, she became sad and she still is. She so enjoyed his company much more than she let on. We’ll miss ShyGuy every day at Wild Dingo but we’ll remember the joy he brought to everyone.

“Mr. Guy is quite talented at enforcing my laws here in my neighborhood,” says Starling. “I was particularly impressed with his ‘bark-at-the-fenced-in-dog’ technique during his encounters with the always-agitated canine, Harley. It was then I knew that he’d make a good posse for me.”

The partnership is a win-win for both parties as it involves daily off-site visits to the lake, free rides in the Wild Dingo limo and an occasional swim in the nearby river. During the off-sites, Mr. Guy also provides treasure-burying services, often finding a dead animal or bone and providing just the right burying space for that emergency snack storage. Less interested in Mr. Guy’s treasure, Starling waits patiently until he concludes his burying rituals.

Being a posse for a Dingo has its drawbacks. During one of Margaret’s typically noisy encounters with Border collie, Arrow, Mr. Guy rose to the occasion, bravely carrying out his posse duties by teaming up with Margaret to yell at Arrow. In her usual fashion, Margaret started the argument and quickly stepped aside leaving Mr. Guy to contend with Arrow on his own. Arrow quickly became unhappy with Mr. Guy’s posse-like behavior and let him know it. Basset howling could be heard for miles.

“You win some, you lose some,” said Starling. “I try to lay down the law daily with those on this street, but you’ll always get a few rogue individuals, such as Arrow, who will not obey. They live by their own rules, no matter how many times I try to explain that I am the boss. But sometimes they will not comply. Unfortunately, Mr. Guy learned this lesson early in his career as a Dingo posse,” she added.

Mr. Guy could not be reached for comment regarding his duties as posse.

Over the summer, Margaret has been making political gain for all dingo-kind in her weekly visits into town. While strolling through the farmer’s market, children, adults and dogs-alike succumb to her lobbying techniques and respond to her “good behavior” bribes with treats and fawning attention.

“My goal is simple: to prove that dingoes can be upstanding canine citizens in a community named for, ugh the feline. Using common canine political tactics, such as tail wags and licks, I’ll educate the misguided pro-feline community and gain greater support for dingo-kind,” says Margert. Her charm won her several adventures in kayaking, where she was often seen commanding a two-man vessel along the southern reservoir shores.

Not all individuals support the dingo cause. Local feline resident, Maxwell Mittens alleges that Margaret is discriminate when offering her charms and claims that he and Margaret had a showdown over territorial rights in the shared community. Margert asked, “Isn’t it enough that the town Los Gatos is named after cats? Shouldn’t canines be allowed some right to personal property? I can’t help it if Mittens wanders onto my property, but I can sure help keep him off!”

Margaret’s right-winged opinion resulted in a war-wound from the confrontation.

Less than pleased with the surprise demonstration, chicken leader, Chelsea Chicken remarked, “While we appreciate Starling’s concern for our safety, I cannot help but believe that her intentions are less than ‘amicable.’ I’ve been around the hen house long enough to know that Starling is a loose cannon and cannot be trusted. Therefore, we are turning down her bid for chicken-herding services.”

Disappointed in the loss, Maggie Starling consoled herself with a chicken stew dinner.

* No chickens were harmed in the making of this demonstration. The views of the Wild Dingo CEO are not necessarily the views of all Wild Dingo employees.