News from Basta

Received this email from my best friend, Basta:

From: Basta [Basta@chine-europe.com]
To: josie@menerbes.net
Subject: Traveling

Gutentag Josie!
Finally made it to Frankfurt, and having endured the 9+ hours in the car I needed some R+R (see photo). I am simply dog tired, but wanted to get this off to you while we had an internet connection.

We didn't make it out of Menerbes as planned, always too many last minute details. And as you might imagine I was on pins and needles all day, just wondering what was going on!

We're now safely, calmly, installed at the hotel for the evening. If you think driving on Route Nationale is rough, take my word for it, you don't want to watch the German Autobahn go flying by (through the back window) all day!

Off to the U.S. tomorrow morning (another long, boring day for me) and then a lot of visiting with the stateside relatives. Wish you'd be there, we'd all have a great time!

I'll send more news when I can, getting the typing done is so tedious. Have a great time while I'm gone, see you soon, and don't eat too many cherries along the trail.

Gros Bisous, Basta

I hope you've noticed something important: Basta's been allowed to lie on the bed!

Bon Voyage

So, Basta—my very best friend—is heading home tomorrow, back to the United States. She’ll be gone a whole month, apparently, and I’m really going to miss our walks. But, it’s all in a good cause: Whitney, who is the daughter of Basta’s mum and dad, is getting married in somewhere called Colorado and, obviously, Basta has to be there. I wonder if she’ll bring me back some wedding cake?

Anyway, we had a great farewell walk today and, halfway round, I asked my dad to take a picture of me and Basta—and Susan and Mark—to make sure I won’t forget them, because a whole month seems like an awfully long time. I’m missing them already…

This is so, sooooooooo exciting!

I knew something was up when my dad began tidying his office, and my mum made up the spare room, and Isabel, our femme de ménage—who I really, really like—said she would work an extra hour.

‘Guess who’s coming to see you?’ my dad kept asking, which I thought was a pretty irritating question; how was I supposed to know? Anyway, by last Friday evening I just knew the ‘mystery guest’ was about to arrive and I was so excited I couldn’t eat my supper (which, as my dad remarked—unnecessarily, I thought—‘Well, that’s a first, Josie.’) At 6:30PM my mum said, very casually, ‘Let’s go to the village and see who we might see’—and by now I was fit to burst. So the three of us walked down to the pharmacy, and waited and waited, and guess who we saw?

Nobody, that’s who!

And then my dad said, ‘Well, perhaps they’re not coming after all,’ and insisted we all went home, and I was planning to start a major sulk—when the doorbell rang. ‘Josie, I think that’s for you,’ said my mum, and the front door opened, and I saw a woman, and at first I didn’t recognise her—for about a millionth of a second—and then I did: MUM LAURA!

That’s right! Mum Laura, the wonderful woman who saved my life, had flown all the way from Barbados to see me. Was I excited? Well, you be the judge:

Wow! Can you believe that? What an incredible thing to do! I mean, as I know only too well, Barbados is a very long way away, and you have to travel in a carrier that’s a bit like a cage, and the only sustenance they give you is a bowl of water, and it’s dark and bumpy and very scary. Still, Laura came all that way for me—and she brought her mum (my Grandma Hilary)—and what a time we had for the next two days: cuddles and walks, and more cuddles—lots and lots of them—and, when my dad wasn’t looking, Laura even sneaked me some tasty roast duck to supplement my meagre diet.

Naturally, I took the opportunity to tell Laura what a terrible time I’m having in Provence and to list all of my deprivations: no more biscuit snacks during the day (because, I’m getting a little plump, allegedly); no more roast chicken suppers on a nightly basis (ditto); not allowed on the bed; not allowed to chase kittens, etc, etc.

But Laura just lay down with me and said I was the luckiest puppy in the world. Perhaps I am?

As you can see, I love my friends....

How embarrassing!

Why is it that parents think it’s ‘cute’ to dredge up baby pictures? I mean, who on earth wants to know what I looked like when I was a very young puppy, and very small?

Well, you do, apparently. Or that’s what my dad thinks, and he absolutely insists that I post this picture of me and Laura, taken in Barbados, shortly after I was rescued. He also insists I point out that while I was not much bigger than Alf is today, my paws were ‘absolutely huge’.

So, now you know. Please don’t feel the need to post any comments!