Just rip it off — a review of German veterinary medicine
Following removal of the “claw.”
Rip it off, take it off*, cut you off**, flip you off***. There seems to be an underlying haste in this country, or at least in Köln, underscored by our visits to the vet — which I mostly appreciate.
Rewind a few months: Kaya has some weird fetal-looking claw growing from one of her toes. We go to vet, where her doctor proceeds to tear it off, glove-less, roll it around in her fingers a few times, shrug, say “huh,” stick it on a slide, and tell me to call back in a few days with the results of the “biopsy.” Only after this hasty maneuver does she put antibiotic ointment on the now-gushing hole in Kaya’s foot, wrap it in gauze, and send us off on our way. I was initially quite shocked, but Kaya is still with us.
Now, fast-forward a few months to last week. Breezy has a similarly strange growth on the lower part of her little peg-leg. So, we go to the vet, where the doctor — again, glove-less — squeezes it hard and … tears it off! Only this time she opts NOT to send it off to the lab because, “if it doesn’t grow back, it’s likely not cancer.” It has not grown back. Breezy also received an antibiotic shot and some friendly pats accompanied by, “Du bist ein gutes Mädchen!” (Repeat x 10, at least). (Translation: “You are a good girl!”)
Total cost per visit: Less than 30 Euros.
Compare this to the U.S., where we’d have to come back in a few days for a scheduled “surgical” procedure, complete with scalpels, rubber gloves, and all sorts of antiseptics, likely to the tune of $200-$300. What we get instead is German vet-the-ripper, but I’m surprisingly OK with it.
Yes, the dogs are my children, but they are also dogs. They roll in and ingest random animal feces. They inhale entire chicken wings. They swallow toy pigs and rubber chickens. They drink out of toilets and pick through the trash. They sniff butts. And, they walk around bare-pawed and naked even when it’s 20 degrees out and snowing.
And generally, the vets here are less expensive, more interested in natural treatments, and are not inclined to test every freckle (I swear, Breezy received a shot comprised of crushed maple leaves and pine bark to support her immune system one day).**** Plus, they are quite affectionate with the dogs (and speak English).
So, I’m not really sure what the moral of the story is. Perhaps that culture shock can sometimes just be shocking (hence the term), but in some cases, these other cultures might get it right (or at least not wrong). Therefore, I’m learning to accept.
Now, I’m still not sure how to handle the aggressiveness while waiting in line, nor am I yet accustomed to the supersonic grocery scanners. I’ll get back to you.
Notes:
*Human doctors in Germany pretty much always want you to take your clothes off. When in doubt (or when you don’t understand what they’re saying), just get naked.
**Cars here, at least on our street, are prone to aggressive maneuvers, particularly around our small “roundabout” (or rotary, as we call them in MA).
***If you (as a hypothetical German) get cut off or beeped at by another person in a car/van/three-wheeled miniature truck, you are likely to then run down the street screaming at the offender with both middle fingers up. My neighbor is a great case study on this one. (The term likely might be a stretch since I haven’t conducted statistical research).
****Dr. Meg, you are exempt from the criticism of American vets. But you are probably also not reading this.
Frohes Weinachten und Gutes neues Jahr!
New Year’s resolution number one: start blogging again. It’s amazing how awful we’ve been at this. Truly.
So many things have happened since we last blogged. We visited Munich, Nuremberg, and Amsterdam, experienced our first Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s in Germany, and had quite a bit of fun in the process. I will post pictures from our trips this week. Promise.
In the meantime, some commentary on the holidays.
Thanksgiving
Obviously, this is not a German holiday. I’m surprised they haven’t adopted it here, however, in the spirit of working less, closing grocery stores, and as an additional excuse for slacking in customer service. Fortunately, this is not the case because planning is not my forte. I was able to successfully purchase last-minute items on Thanksgiving DAY for my garlic mashed potatoes and bacon-grease infused green beans I took with me to our neighborhood Thanksgiving (with friends and a family of Jeff’s colleagues, of course). Despite missing my family greatly, this was one of the tastier Turkey Days I’ve experienced in recent history — likely because everyone brought their culinary A-game to one or two dishes! And who knew that pilots and their spouses were such a culinary bunch.
Following Thanksgiving, we had a smaller, more intimate German-style Thanksgiving, at which our half-German couple friends (Emily and Nick) cooked goose, with a side of purple cabbage and apples and dumplings. Quite Deutsch! Oh, I must not forget the chestnuts they added to the gravy (I love them; Jeff doesn’t). Mmm. mmm. We hosted. They did most of the work. I’m generally OK with that arrangement.
Thanksgiving with goose!
Goose, cabbage, dumplings — oh my!
Christmas
The Christmas traditions of the U.S. are pretty much German traditions, so being here is pretty awesome. To summarize things quite simply — Germans love and wholeheartedly embrace this holiday, so it’s quite festive! The best part, Christmas markets and Glühwein. Christmas markets (or, Weinachtsmarktes) are essentially these mini craft fairs, where local craftsman set up shop and sell ornaments, art, food, knick-knacks, etc., all while people walk around sloshed on warm, mulled vino. It’s pretty amazing.
On Christmas Day, Jeff and I enjoyed being together — with the dogs — for the first time, ever, I think. We indulged in a feast with friends on both Christmas day and New Year’s.
The New Year’s tradition in Köln, and all of Germany (I think), is to light off as many fireworks and other explosives as possible (unfortunately for us, this terrifies our dog Kaya and leads to explosive something else). In fact, commercial-grade fireworks are even sold in grocery stores the week leading up to Jan. 1.
We witnessed children blowing off smaller fireworks in the street in front of moving cars, and we saw one local almost blow off a hand (and maybe a face) by closely inspecting what he thought was a dud (it wasn’t). I think this article sums up the Germany holiday nicely: “New Year in Germany is full of suicidal charm.”
(For whatever reason, WordPress is not letting me upload photos and then text, so here are a random selection of shots from what I just described.) Happy new year! Hopefully I will blog again before next year…
Market at the Kölner Dom.
The markets are exceptionally crowded. Especially on weekends. I might have some permanently Glühwein-stained clothing.
Enjoying the markets with friends
Enjoying their new Christmas dog toy.
Attempting to get dogs in the photo! FAIL.
Jeff modeling his new sweater and PJ pants on our little Christmas “picnic” blanket.
Kaya and tree.
Christmas table “scape” — minus the food. I was really impressed with the layout.
Holiday party at the Pullman.
New Year’s — the aftermath.
Happy 2013!
das Wetter
I find it strangely coincidental that the German word for weather is “Wetter,” because truly, it could not get any wetter than Cologne (at least since we’ve been here).
Now, I’ve always loved the rain — slightly less now that I have two dogs.
This is what it looks like getting lost in the rain while walking a dog in Cologne. (This was taken in March).
But the rain makes it easier to focus on work, gives you an excuse to snuggle up and read a book, makes it acceptable NOT to go for a jog, but I’m over it. For so many reasons. One being that I get around by foot or bike.
For my fellow expats, it appears we have more to look forward to in Koeln. I pulled these stats off the World Weather and Climate Information page… apparently JULY is the wettest month of the year. Really? Really?
The facts:
- The months June, July and August have a nice average temperature.
- On average, the warmest month is August.
- On average, the coolest month is January.
- July is the wettest month.
- April is the driest month.
(Source: http://www.weather-and-climate.com/average-monthly-Rainfall-Temperature-Sunshine,koln,Germany.)
The last two bullets are absolutely shocking. Don’t put away those rain boots yet!
On the bright side, I may be more motivated to stay inside and study German.
Ha.
The dog saga continues.
Immediately after posting yesterday’s blog, I received this email from our RSB agent (the woman who helped us find our apartment). Impeccably timed. Apparently, our landlord still thinks it’s appropriate to communicate through her, rather than even attempting the Denglish necessary to speak with us directly. The email reads:
” Hi Allison,
I just left a message on your voicemail, but I’m not sure if you hear them.
I just get a call from [landlord]. She told me that the gardener at your house will not do the garden, as the garden would be full of dog sh…
I was a little astonished, as Jeff just told me, that you are very seldom using the garden.
Please be so nice and give me a call about it.
I’m sure there is a misunderstanding.”
We have not used the “garden” since the first week of May. Shit’s not ours! In fact, there’s no sheisse back there at all.
This is the same gardener who has taken more than a week to trim the hedges in the front of the apartment. Not with cuticle scissors, but with an actual gas-powered hedge trimmer. Sounds like someone is looking for an excuse not to work. Surprise!
Anyway – after some communication, the landlord has decided not to blame us (gee, thanks). But because there is “clearly” poo-poo in the backyard, she is changing the lock on the gate so no one can go back there. Logical.
Mind your own business
Let me back up.
Starting about the week after we arrived in Cologne, Germans began commenting on how we walk Kaya. Now, Kaya is a tough dog. She pulls like a freaking reindeer, and we’ve been doing everything we know how to do in order to maintain control without actually hurting her (no pinch collars, no electric shock devices, no barbed harnesses … despite how tempting). One method we use is “the Caesar hold,” keeping the collar high up on her neck — per the recommendation of both the Dog Whisperer AND our German dog trainer — so she keeps her head up and can’t pull as hard. Now, she still pulls, which sometimes leads to her front legs lifting off the ground, and the occasional hacking noise escaping from her throat. While this may not look pleasant, it’s pretty damn obvious to me that the dog is doing this to HERSELF.
Well, not according to some.
The first two women who stopped us were fairly pleasant. The third, a woman in her 80s (we guess) with a walker AND A CANE, was not so nice. She took to screaming and pointing at us from across the street, while waving her walking stick and pantomiming our torture techniques — a theatrical performance for all 500 people waiting to cross the busy street! Rudolfplatz, for those of you who know where that is.
The dogs in Rudolfplatz. They look like tortured souls don’t they?
Fortunately, we found an apartment with a yard where we can run the dogs — helping exercise the devil out of Kaya before working on actual training techniques. So we thought. Turns out, yards here are just to look at, not to use, but our landlord made an exception for us — well, unless anyone else in the building complained. Tuesday of last week, someone finally complained, after first insulting us by asking for the SECOND time if we even live in the building (Yes, we still live in the building.) We’d more or less given up on the back yard anyway because there were too many “tasty treats” in the bushes, but it was the principle of it that really pissed me off.
Luckily for us, we discovered a new way to exhaust Kaya. We started training the dogs last week to run next to us on the bikes. A perfect solution! A way for Kaya to run without running away. This is something people do all the time in Cologne.
BUT (of course, there’s a “but”), yesterday someone disapproved. Another elderly woman approached Jeff in the park and asked Kaya’s age. He told her 18 months. Old lady says, in German, “Oh, that’s too young. You need to walk her next to the bike.” Jeff explains that we’ve been working with her, that this is how we exercise her so we can then train her, etc., etc. (probably in broken Deutsch, but I didn’t actually hear it). This isn’t good enough. So she threatens to take a picture with her cell phone and send it to the “Polizei.”
The Polizei!??!? Now this is just getting ridiculous.
Jeff promptly pedaled away, lady still sputtering about God knows what.
I’d like to point one thing out — this is a country where people put their human children on bikes before they can even WALK.
Anyway, enough with my rant. I have more important things to do … like take down wanted posters featuring my husband’s stunned face.
Cheers!
*An editorial note — for all the people who bitch at us, there are probably 200,000 who don’t. And there are many Germans here we absolutely adore. But, this was something I had to share.
Diagnosis: Fat dog
I would like to interrupt the previously promised schedule of Italy-related travel posts with this brief announcement: Kaya is fat.
Yes, the same dog who just 9 months ago was emaciated, shit-covered, malnourished and partially bald now weighs 14.5 kilograms, up from 11.5 in early March (and has a beautiful coat).
The day began comically when we picked up the dogs from the farm, following our Italia holiday. Jeff and I both noticed immediately that Kaya appeared a little chunky. So we laughed and made fat jokes (Breezy did too) and then Jeff took her for a jog.
Then cue the farting. Constant gas, a lot of drinking, and loud noises from the tum-tum — some serious borborygmus (most certainly not born of hunger). Could the “fat” be bloat, a symptom of potentially serious, sometimes fatal disease, according to the canine version of WebMD?
Off to the vet we go. Onto the scale — we weren’t imagining the fat. Into the exam room, where Kaya promptly peed all over the floor. Fortunately, the probing vet discovered no stomach discomfort, just meaty ribs. Kaya did, however, have a slight fever. So, she could have a minor infection, likely of the bladder variety given the drinking and the accident. So with a small antibiotic injection and a squirt of stomach soother, we were off, with a loud and clear order from the doctor: cut back on the food (which is also the likely cause of the tooting).
To our credit as loving dog parents, the food is brand new. I guess we didn’t realize that with a $90 bag of gourmet/organic “kibble” — with ingredients that read like the menu of a five-star restaurant (steak, sweet potatoes, apples) — we don’t need to feed her 2 full cups a day. I also did not realize that one week on said diet could be so unfriendly to my once-slender puppy.
So now we begin experimenting with diet and portions. And I suppose I should do the same, following a week of pasta, cheese, wine, olive oil, bread and tiramisu.
That said, I will NOT be stepping on the scale today, or ever. In fact, we don’t even have one.
Dogs on a German Farm
I am in Florence with my dear friend Lindsay, staying in an amazing (free) guest house and thinking about the journey to get here (more on Firenze later).
First and foremost, I do not have the luxury of a stress-free girls’ weekend when Jeff is also flying. Must find home for the hundes. Thanks to Deb M, who is constantly saving the day, we found a great boarding facility on a farm in the sticks for 29 euro a day (cheap). The owner is a vet, and the place is great! Big dog rooms with heated floors and a doggie door to a fenced in outdoor “garden kennel.”
The catch — it is 22 km from where we live and about 20 euros, two hours, and a huge pain in the ass away by train. Thanks to a friendly post on the “friends and family” Facebook page, Zuhkra and Ilenia saved the day. Car ride to the farm!
Lindsay had the pleasure of joining us. All good, minus the rush hour traffic. This particular place only allows drop offs between 8 and 9 hours or 18 and 19 hours (6-7 pm). Standstill on the autobahn. Not something they advertise.
Lindsay joined us for this particular ride, with Kaya on her lap and Breezy panting by her side. We got somewhat lost in the process, only to discover some roadside goats that prompted Kaya to growl, scratch at the car door, and let out some stinky excited farts. Meanwhile, I am struggling getting clear English directions (why would I speak German in Deutschland?).
We finally arrive. Place was perfect and as described above. I made everyone aware that Kaya can squeeze through tight fence posts and that Breezy is required to eat out of her special bowl to prevent choking. I got a pretty standard response on the fence thing — “in 12 years, no dog has ever escaped.” famous last words, but so far no phone calls.
The remaining journey was pretty simple. I’ve never gone from my house to the Koln/Bonn airport on my own. Aside from my EC card having “insufficient funds” (thanks, sugar daddy), and an illegal ride on the 1 train, things were smooth. Fortunately we got tickets for the S Bahn because we were checked, and I don’t wanna get locked up.
Then to German Wings, where the flight attendants (at least in the ads) still look like Charlie’s Angels. I’ve heard from everyone that this particular airline is all about “nickel and diming.” I was pleased. It may have been our fare, but for 66 euros, I got to Pisa with one free checked bag and an actual sandwich and coffee on the plane.
One more short train ride to Florence, and we arrived in one of the tastiest, most artistic, exceptionally fun-loving, and incredibly chaotic cities anywhere. I love it!
More to come (and please forgive grammar and spelling errors. I’m typing this on an ipadlet).
broken in norway
i know it’s been a while since my last update. it’s not intentional, just had some things going on.
the least exciting thing that happened to me was a nice, fat european cold. it plugged up my sinuses real good. picked that thing up while finishing a trip (thankfully not in the middle of it) and it hung around for a good 10-11 days. so that interfered with a lot, including some really nice weather when i would much rather have been drinking beer in a garden somewhere. hopefully that fills my quota of colds for the next several months.
beyond that, as Allison mentioned, we got all moved in to our new place. it’s pretty awesome. a huge park right out the front door, great food and drink very close by and a nice yard in back that every once in a while makes a nice dog track. it’s so nice to be able to let our two pooches run to their heart’s content unencumbered by leashes. naturally, kaya feasts on whatever nasty thing happens to be on the ground while we’re back there. we’re not really sure what it is she eats back there but my guess is mouse poop. the area around us is kind of lousy with mice. thankfully the mice haven’t shown up inside, probably due to the german insistence on having an air-tight living space. maybe the mice are the reason for that, or at least part of it. whatever, hopefully kaya gets tired of eating whatever that stuff is cause i’m pretty sure it’s gross.
our place is great though, 1.5 baths, 2 bedrooms, sweet kitchen (with a quiet dishwasher) and a pretty massive living / dining room area that overlooks the park. it was a little more expensive than some other places but still well within our budget. i’m glad we happened upon it with a little help from a co-worker. thanks tricia and andrew.
the work side of things is going well. i’m starting to feel a little more at home with my new company and equipment. the plane is forgiving and thankfully so are the other pilots. although, we did manage to break something on our way into norway this morning. well, we didn’t really break it, it just broke on its own. it’s a valve between the engine and the wing that is pretty important and not readily available. and now we have a little time to sit and contemplate the norwegian way. first lesson in norway is: expensive. train to downtown? 32 bucks please (USD). one way. beer in the hotel bar? 15 dollars (again USD). but the folks are friendly and courteous and i get the impression they speak english better than me (i?). they probably at least use capital letters when typing. weirdos. this trip has involved some interesting body clock adjustments too. first night starts at 1am and ends at 8am. sleep the day away then turn around and end about 1am. 24 hours later, start again, end at 8am and repeat. oddly enough, sleep and fatigue haven’t been a problem. i am apparently blessed with my dad’s natural gift of sleep. thank you dad. the best part is, when we finish at 1 or 2 or 3 in the morning and i make it to the hotel bed, i feel perfectly justified in sleeping till noon or whenever. i’m recovering. that justification makes for a nice, squishy pillow. the only time that gets jacked up is when there is a delicious free breakfast in the morning. sleep is important, but that breakfast buffet has an expiration time to it. my bed will still be waiting when i get back.
hopefully we aren’t staying in norway too long, it’s nice but there are many things to do at home. like buy and install light fixtures. that’s another german apartment-ism that i can’t remember if i addressed before. the previous tenant moved in and installed their own light fixtures and when they left, they took them. perfectly normal around here. so now we have loose, live wires exposed on the ceiling in various places throughout the apartment. the ceilings are high though so not to worry.
all for now.
Dogs and monuments
Today, we took the dogs for a long walk to explore Cologne. Here are their first tourist stops.
The famous cathedral, called the Dome.
A solo Breezer shot from another cathedral location.
Kaya looking out over the Rhein … and construction.
The human-canine journey to Deutschland
We’ve made it to Deutschland, complete with pooches and about 400 pounds of luggage.
We left Atlanta Saturday after a wild, out-straight week of packing, movers, a round trip drive to Florida, three or four visits to a storage unit, and two nights in our temporary housing.
Sad to leave, we were excited for our new adventure — if we could only get the dogs checked into their flight, through TSA, and across the ocean … ALIVE. This was my (Allison’s) primary fear and biggest concern through the entire moving process — how to get my furry babies over the Atlantic without suffering some sort of canine version of a nervous breakdown. Our vet, and Jeff’s dear friend, Meg refused to provide anti-anxiety meds, and for good reason. But worry not, I took mine with enthusiasm (chased by a cabernet-merlot blend).
Helping to calm our nerves, Jeff buddied up with our flight’s First Officer prior to boarding. He made it a point to check on our pooches during his walk-around (what a nice German and great first impression!) and then point out the location of our boxed-up children on the ramp near the gate. I spent about an hour with my new Swedish friend Emelia, who was shipping her felines, watching the three “live-animal” crates with the same attention and horror that we might watch a thriller. The process of getting them settled onto their cargo pallet (yes, I said cargo pallet) went something like this…
The ramp worker/animal handler followed a clear checklist and process. He:
–very gracefully placed Breezy and Kaya onto their pallet and roped their crates together.
–positioned the smaller cat crate behind the dogs — and applied more rope.
–shook them vigorously (I guess he was testing the strength of his knots, but at the time, I assumed he was making an obvious attempt to wake the dogs from a black out, or the early-stages of a coma …were they dead already?)
–decided, this was not the best crate architecture.
–untied crates and removed dogs and cats from pallet.
–repositioned Breezy and Kaya.
–put cats ON TOP of dog crates.
–repeated roping.
-repeated vigorous shaking.
–looked at his first pet packing job with satisfaction and moved them to the boarding area.
Here are the doggies on the ramp, behind the white pick-up truck. You can see the ramp worker securing the cats into their first position.
Meanwhile, I asked the gate agent to have someone check their water bowls (obviously, the water didn’t stand a chance with all that shaking). They did. Thanks, Lufthansa.
Eight hours later — complete with a delicious dinner, a four hour nap, half a movie, and one more hour of stressing — we landed in Frankfurt. The rest was literally a breeze. We picked up the dogs from their special baggage belt, met with our driver Manfred, passed through customs with hardly a glance at our doggy paperwork by German officials, and headed to Cologne … at the slow speed of up to 190 km/hour (that is 117.8 mph, folks) on the famous autobahn.
We arrived at our second temporary home, the Pullman, by noon on Sunday. Greeted by happy faces and a clean suite, we began the settling process. It took the dogs no time to relax.
Needless to say, we began our adventure with a nap.
—Allison
A European Adventure 