Category: France

Jacques Report

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He’s not here any more.

I woke up yesterday morning to find him snuggled up against Sky, using her tummy as a pillow. We had an appointment in Nantes, so I got ready and off we went, to get to the bottom of all the crazy things going wrong with him. They did a scan and found out: bone cancer. It was everywhere. Everywhere. Jacques must have been in terrible pain and never let on.

They sedate dogs to do scans and had kept him sedated. The vet practically begged me to let him put Jacques down, but it wasn’t necessary. Once I understood the situation, there was really no other choice. So now he’s gone.

I’m strongly tempted to follow the example of blog-buddy Tom. Tom had what he called a dog blog. We were partners in little white dog worship. When his Maltese died of heart failure, he ended the blog. Like Tom, I’m likely to make the announcement of the death of my beloved little white dog my last post.

This blog began with a death and it may well end with one. When Robert died I moved permanently to France, where we had already been spending half our lives. I got Jacques as a way to reconnect myself with the world; he kept me from spending my life crying on the sofa. I started the blog to stay in touch with my US friends, and to chart my transition to life here.

So, the house renovation, the garden transformation, some travel, Jean-Yves. You didn’t read about the guys I dumped because they didn’t understand the importance of Jacques in my life. Jean-Yves treated him like a beloved stepchild. I wish he were here to be miserable with me.

Anyway, with Jacques’ death, I have transitioned. It’s all over but the paperwork, which in France never ends. Still, France is home; I don’t foresee another move. The house is done. It’s just maintenance, now. We’re planting out long-dreamt schemes for the garden. Now it’s all about fertilizer and pruning.

Somewhat to my surprise, I’m an old lady. I don’t feel old but at 71 I guess I qualify. Old men are dying like flies, so I have to figure there will not be another Robert or Jean-Yves. I am grateful for my years with them and dare not presume that a third lovely man will come into my life. Well, they do, but not in that way.

Tom got it exactly right. Like him I may leave the blog up for a while, but close comments. Some of you have my email address. I would love to hear from you. Some of you are blog buddies; I will check in, so keep blogging. Some of you even know where I live; the door is open to you. For everyone else in my tiny community of followers, thank you for being here.

Sky Report

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Well, I guess Sky is settling in. I didn’t even know I had hares. What I do know is that if the local hunting society finds out about this, I’ll have a fight on my hands to keep them from “borrowing” her.

Maybe this post should have come with a warning of some kind. Maybe I should warn my cat-owning neighbors.

Jacques Report

Posted in FranceTagged 5 Comments

Here he is, home from five days at the vet on an IV, mainlining cortisone and morphine. He had acute pancreatitis. It took out half his pancreas and almost killed him. He’s on a special diet now. Apparently all you can do is keep it from flaring up again.

Plus, his arthritis got a lot worse. He can walk just a couple of steps. It seems odd, with all that cortisone running through his veins, but there it is. We’ll start the Librela again next week.

Maybe he’s just sleeping off the morphine. We’ll see. Right now he seems to be out of pain. I am very happy to have him home. All you folks who sent encouragement, lit candles, journeyed to your spirit helpers, thank you. You kept both of us going.

Sky Report

Posted in France, WolfhoundTagged , 7 Comments

This isn’t working out the way I thought it would.

Long ago, toward the tail-end of a crumbling marriage, I decided I needed a dog. Only a Wolfhound would do. I found a serious breeder with pups who lived out in the desert and made an appointment to see her. She forgot and wasn’t home, so I toddled around her dog pens. An unlocked one contained a friendly-enough dog. There must have been a bench in his pen, as I sat down with him, just for a minute, to wait. What felt like a couple of minutes stretched to nearly an hour, perhaps the calmest hour of my life. I was actually sorry the breeder showed up. That memory of warm desert breezes circling me and this quiet, accepting dog have sustained me through some terrible times.

A pup came home with me and spent the evening’s dinner party sleeping, plastered to my chest. Calm: it was heaven. The next morning he went home. Another nail in the coffin of that marriage.

A couple of months ago it seemed like a good time to try again. No such thing as too much zen. More serious breeders, another long drive and hey presto, Sky was mine. The thing is, she’s antsy, not at all calm.

Here she is, barking at Gandhi.

Here she is, barking at shadows passing across the glass.

Here is her favorite toy, after about three minutes in her possession. She likes to pick at it, scattering those rubber bits around the room. Bonus points for muddying the floor. No points for reminding me that she’s a kennel dog, not even remotely house-trained. I’ll spare you a photo of that.

She’s settling in. We ripped her away from her dog-dads, her remaining children and maybe fifteen of her sisters and her cousins and her aunts. It was quite an adjustment but she seems okay with the basic concept. She adores Jacques.

She is gorgeous and has charm to burn but calm, zen, forget it. She’s quite emotional, coming up to me every couple of hours just to boop noses and get a hug. She is constantly looking for food and is tall enough to explore the countertops. She gets that going outside is good — treats! — but hasn’t worked out that going inside is a no, just no. We have a routine now that starts with her waking me up around 8, fair enough, and going from there. She knows every daily ritual and insists that we follow through, on time.

And me? I’m the charlady, washing or steam-cleaning the floor every day, though to be fair it’s nearly always mud, now; changing sheets and floor towels about every other day. Lots of laundry. Lots of pet deodorizer. And no zen.

Jacques Report

Posted in FranceTagged , , , 14 Comments

I think last time I mentioned that Jacques has arthritis. I wondered about it over the summer, when he hesitated to jump into the car. Now it’s winter. We had weeks of cold and rain, followed by weeks of freezing temperatures, now apparently to be followed by more weeks of cold and rain. It’s hitting him pretty hard.

I made arrangements for Sky during that first rainy period, when Jacques could still have played with her. Organizing the trip to pick her up was a major operation, so I went ahead, rather than cancel. And of course with all the medications, I figured Jacques would feel better. Wrong.

Last night he was vomiting and shaking with pain. I take CBD, but I don’t know enough about dosages to give it to such a little guy. But last night I thought I’d better give it a try. I gave him something from the vet for his tummy, then a squirt of “pet-strength” CBD, something I had reserved for Sky’s more rambunctious moments; I now believe that those tales of Wolfhounds being couch potatoes indoors are urban legend.

It probably takes 20-30 minutes to take effect. I gave him 10 and squirted some more into his mouth. 10 minutes later, he started to relax. if he started shaking again, a little more. Finally he settled into sleep, as did I. This morning I saw that he had moved around the bed a bit. Sweet, getting back to normal, I thought, especially when he jumped off the bed and came downstairs on his own. For the last few days, I’ve been carrying him.

But he won’t eat, not even treats. One thing and another, I’m worried. We’re going back to the vet this afternoon. I’ll tell her about the CBD. It’s the single most effective thing he’s been given so far. And yes, he got a little bit more this morning.

I’m baking CBD-infused dog treats. I’m baking CBD buds to make more. If you buy the stuff pre-made, you’ll empty your bank account in no time. I’m going to try to tempt my little pup with his favorite meal: yogurt mixed with turmeric and apricot jam. We’ll see how it goes.

What was I thinking?

Posted in dogs, FranceTagged , 19 Comments

Well, I actually know what I’ve been thinking for most of my life: “I want a Wolfhound.” Plain and simple. We went to a lot of dog shows when I was a kid. I liked a lot of the dogs, but the Wolfhounds were always the ones that looked right to me.

So here is a tiny photo of my new dog, Skyfall, but you can call her Sky, with her breeder, winning at some show about a year ago, maybe longer. She has gotten a little grayer since then, but haven’t we all?

I was sitting around the house, contemplating my life, wondering what I was going to do in 2024. My thesis has been canceled. Piano practice is an hour a day, tops. I can only knit so much, read so much, etc. My love life is nonexistent, maybe permanently. That’s when it hit me: opportunity. Nobody to ask me what I’m thinking, getting a huge dog like that. And what I was suddenly thinking is yes, it’s time.

Well, not time now, exactly, but the big Wolfhound specialty was coming up in two weeks. I had to go. Just to look. Of course.

Huge respect to folks who rescue dogs. That takes patience and dedication that I just don’t have. I can be neurotic; I count on my dogs to help me be at least somewhat sane. I grew up in a big family where none of us kids were wanted. My life’s inner work has been to prove to myself and my brother and sisters that we have value anyway. My dogs have to have always been wanted. I have my limits. Thus Piper, who was before this blog. Thus Jacques and now Sky.

So, Nantes, big dog show. Chaotic, disorganized, nothing like the shows in the States. I think I showed you the zombie Santa — you say Stitch, I say zombie Santa — a while ago. Freaked-out dogs literally shitting themselves from the stress, right in the ring. And at the far back of all this, where the stench was nearly unbearable, were the Wolfhounds, lying around wondering what the fuss was all about.

And one dog was hoovering up the awards. She deserved them, no question, but there was this other one that caught my eye. Absent the golden girl, she might have taken the prize. I had found my breeders. I didn’t know it, but I had also found my dog.

On Day Two of the madness, we talked for a bit. Frederic and Flavio have been at this for long enough to quickly figure out that I was a keeper. Photos of the house and garden helped. Then they trotted out Sky. “What about her?” and just like that, my schedule was accelerated by about six months.

Sky is three. She had a litter of pups last spring. Once and done for Fred and Flav. A deal with another breeder fell through. And now here she is, a kennel dog getting used to life in a house. It’s mid-winter, so the mud situation is interesting. But here I am with a new lap dog.

Christmas Again!

Posted in France, rantTagged , , , 5 Comments

A zombie Santa. Why not? You were probably hoping for this little guy.

The holidays will be nice, friends over, that kind of thing. My French family is off to Guadeloupe, as a daughter is doing a medical residency there. I decided to stay home to prepare for next year. Thus the zombie Santa. What he had to do with the dog show I went to, I do not know, but whatever.

So, yes, a dog show. 2000 dogs and so much chaos. No programs, frequent ring changes. It was quite something.

I went to dog shows back in the States. 2000 dogs was a big deal. They had agility and obedience and tracking, all kinds of stuff. The idea was to add in activities that would attract non-show-dog people, to entertain them and to encourage them to do more things with their own dogs.

Here, not so much. It was easy to find a table for lunch because nearly everyone went back to sit with their dogs. Not a lot of spectators, then. Agility was early on and kind of a non-event. It’s easy to see why. The distractions were everywhere. The astute observer will notice grooming setups along the walls and right adjacent to the rings. The barking, the smells, the bunnies, who can concentrate?

Indeed, yes, at a show where maybe a third of the dogs are bred to hunt these critters and break their pretty necks, they added bunnies. Go figure.

And notice if you will, nothing separates viewers from the rings. We and sometimes our dogs all sat with our feet dangling into the ring itself. I saw staff run a coffee cart through a ring during judging. The dogs did not take well to all this excitement. Diarrhea was everywhere. Unlike in the States, this did not mean the dog was disqualified. So I guess over here this is normal. Or not. When I asked a ring steward about programs and schedules, she shook her head and had this to say: “C’est nul ici!” Sad but true.

There were a lot of cute dogs, though. Julien was hoping I’d bring this one home, but no, this was not a Salon de Chiots, where the puppy mills sell their offspring. These guys went home with their owners.

I was here for the Wolfhounds. Sorry for the blurry photo. On the left you can see the dog who took best of breed and first in her group. She placed in the Best in Show judging, too. Big Effing Deal, to put it mildly. To her right is one who might have taken breed and might possibly have done something in group, if she hasn’t been edged out. Last spring she had twelve puppies, so the guys figure she’s done her bit for their breeding program. She needs a new home. She may have found one.

So here we are. Happy Zombie Christmas to you all. Happy Zombie whatever you celebrate. I hope this year we find that, one way or another, we are all best in class.

Is this room weird?

Posted in FranceTagged , , 11 Comments

My iPad takes panoramic shots. Amazing. So here is a panorama of an upstairs sort-of catchall room. I’m not sure how to make it look less like a sick room.

If someone were seriously ill, this is where I would put them, no question. Two day beds, one — not warped, that’s just how it looks — for the invalid, one just behind for the nurse. Lots of clean sheets. Voltaire chairs for guests. A wall full of books.

But Jacques and I are both quite healthy for the moment. And I like the room. Especially on a rainy, windy day like today, it’s great to snuggle in on that back bed and read, knit, blog, nap. All around a good spot to be.

So what should I do? it needs more pictures on the walls and a rug. End tables? A small coffee table? Then what?

Those chairs are bothering me. Jean-Yves inherited them from an aunt, a nun. It may have been when her convent closed that she went to Africa. I can’t imagine how else those chairs became available. But I can’t stop seeing people sitting in those chairs. It’s like they are haunted, perhaps by severe, judgmental nuns; they were in the mother superior’s office, after all. I need to break them up some way.

Should I have them face one another, instead of facing the bed? Put a low table between? Get that rug and a few more pictures? Any suggestions?

Persimmons!

Posted in FranceTagged , , 10 Comments

I am so pleased. I thought I was years away from harvesting persimmons. So far I have no apricots, no figs, no plums, no almonds, no peaches, only occasional pears and one pomegranate. I do get apples and hazelnuts. The lemon and orange trees look happy, though so far they produce nothing. The persimmon tree is making up for those slackers. It has been producing for weeks and the fruit tastes incredible.

This summer’s music festival was great fun. This photo was taken on my way home from a concert: William Christie’s house and garden, not my own. My own house welcomed a string of guests, for the festival and for two months after that. Sadly for Julien, they ate everything the garden could produce. Too bad for him. The music and the company were a delight.

Now we’re doing some fall planting. No point in photos until next year. The place will look great..

Summer Report

Posted in FranceTagged , , , 16 Comments

Until about a week ago, the title would have been Fall in August. We had weather that was rainy, though not that cool, for weeks into the summer season. Now things have changed. The forecast for today is 38C/100F!

Fortunately the birds have found the water. Julien emptied the dirt from a trough and, as you see, filled it with rocks at various levels. The stone is porous, an unfortunate surprise, so in fall we’ll have to find someone to do a nice zinc lining, as I don’t like the look of plastic sheeting and don’t know how I would disguise it.

Even with the water, I fear the owls have died. I no longer hear them harassing Jacques in the morning. He didn’t mind. I loved it. Now it’s too quiet.

At least I have bugs. The garden has been organic for several years, now. I’m finding more ladybugs and lacewings than ever. Praying mantises are a new addition this year. I am delighted to see them.

As you can see, the kitchen garden is doing well. Sending Julien home with the excess produce last year has paid off. Plus inflation has hit us all pretty hard. This year he got serious. The garden sheeting that I have had for ages went in at once, along with a serious drip system. This year he put the drips on timers. He planted 30 tomato plants, so clearly we are no longer planting just for me. Butternut squash, okra, eggplant/aubergines, cucumbers, chard, strawberries, basil, grapes, lettuce… I think that’s it. We are feeding nine this year, plus guests, plus stocking the freezer. We have been harvesting for a month.

And guests bearing gifts. This harvest will not go home with the cleaning lady. It’s festival week for Les Arts Florissants. Volunteers and friends of the organizers stay here. I have a house full of charming and very attractive young men, not so young as to be embarrassing, fortunately. Jacques is still my sole bedtime companion, but as long as the guys keep me supplied with flowers, chocolate and champagne, I’ll be able to deal with it.

Two days after they clear out, these two, plus their gorgeous wife/mom, arrive. Fun on a whole different level. This is my banker. He makes sure I have enough money to keep this roof over my head. I look forward to watching his little one grow up.

Garden Report

Posted in FranceTagged , 13 Comments

I should probably just rename the whole blog Jacques Report. Here he is, adoring fans, in front of maybe half of this year’s tomato plants.

You may remember that last autumn Julien was the major recipient of the final harvest. I guess it went over well because this year he got serious about the kitchen garden. Food prices are crazy. The kids are growing. His wife is a great cook. So this year I have thirty tomato plants, not counting the volunteers. He has the drip system on timers. He has my plastic cloth set to stop weeds and catch anything that falls. Everything is trained up and he’s picking off the side shoots, the better to maximize fruit production and ripening. It’s working, too.

The strawberries are over. We’re all eating cucumbers, we being me, Julien’s family and Emily’s family.

Emily is my new but already indispensable cleaning lady. She’s not used to being sent home with produce but she seems to like it. Maybe she likes chard; I have a ton of it out there.

Later there will be Japanese eggplant and a few other things. I’d better work on my pickling and generally preserving technique because this year the fruit trees are kicking in. Is persimmon jam an option? Maybe persimmon chutney?

I have just returned from way too long in the south. It looks remarkably like southern California. Rocks, oleander, plumbago. It’s all behind me, which suits me fine.

I’m home and happy. I have a lot to catch up on and a lot of visiting friends to prepare for. I am more grateful than ever that I do not live in the city. Right now, that s enough.

Toulon

Posted in FranceTagged 8 Comments

I’m in Toulon for a couple of weeks. The south of France is quite different from Vendee. It’s sunnier and warmer, for two things. I’m happy to be here in June, before it really gets hot.

Toulon is a big naval center and is used to rebuild older warships. It’s not pretty but I guess someone has to do it. It looks like this guy just arrived. As you can imagine it was heavily bombed in WWII. The Germans used the port, so they left things pretty much alone. The Allies bombed the port and oopsie, quite a few civilian buildings, right at the end of the war. These rather nice Hausmannien knockoffs were generally replaced by concrete, straight-up low-bid concrete.

There are some nicer areas, mainly outside the center of town. The top photo was taken from the terrace of the hillside house where I am staying. The beach is on the peninsula that sits opposite the main town. There are no bathers because there is no sand; this beach is all rocks. Apparently George Sand used to winter in a house on the opposite side of the peninsula — pre-bombardment, of course, so the city would have been more attractive. In any case back then the peninsula was an island. She probably never went into town.

This is one of the more pleasant corners of the city center. It’s old-school, with plazas and some actual character. This is perhaps the most welcoming part of the city. It has a daily market, little cafes, even, as you can see, a guy who will fix your guitar or violin for you, if you need that. Though I don’t have a photo here — I should take one to show you — once in a while you can see how gritty the town must have been, back when the navy was larger and the sailors were less health-minded than the ones I see here now. It’s enough to give you just a whiff of Pepe Le Moko.

Garden Report

Posted in France, VendeeTagged , 18 Comments

Apart from the weeds, it’s a nice time of year. Everything is actually growing, maybe because we have had so much rain. Julien is making a mighty effort to keep the weeds out of the ground cover but to be fair, he clears a patch and a week later, the weeds are back. Little by little, though, I think we are beating them back.

We have roses. I actually did a winter prune this year and guess what? The rose bushes love being pruned. Who knew? And I threw some bone meal at them and a bit of fungicide, when things got a bit rusty. The grass loves all this good stuff, too, but just maybe we are turning the corner on the weeds in the roses. I know, it’s hard to tell in this photo, but yesterday things were a whole lot worse. Now it’s kind of jumbled in the rose patch, but the bees are happy with all that borage, the grass is diminishing, lavender and verveine are moving in. The roses should be okay.

I’m happy with the espaliers, three apples and two pears, I think. Surely there will be no fruit this year, but the trees are healthy. Julien is looking forward to pruning them next year. We’ll see how that goes. For now it’s nice to not have bare walls.

I have grapes! The vines have looked dubious in the past, but this year they are doing great. The planters are set to become shallow pools for the birds, something we’ll do when the bulbs die back. we’ll clear out the dirt and fill the troughs with rocks so the birds have a place to perch.

Right now the birds have staked out the yew tree. I am bribing them shamelessly with fat balls and bird seed. The next garden report will have more about this. And for now, that’s about it.

Uh oh

Posted in France3 Comments
Well. I’m about to have a lovely Easter lunch, but I can see that something has gone very wrong with the site. WordPress has dumped us all onto Jetpack and editing is now a nightmare. I’m going to enjoy my day and try to work it out later. Have patience all…..

Not really riots

Posted in France11 Comments

So, I’ve been looking at the papers trying to figure out what is up with the demonstrations in Paris. I’m actually in Paris right now, so I had dinner with my friend Danica. As always, Danica was in the thick of it, taking pictures. She showed me a few that were pretty grim. Apparently she was teargassed a couple of times. Her general take was that the cops were more aggressive than the demonstrators who, to quite an extent, were aware of the theatrical aspect of a demonstration and had some fun with that. here are a couple of photos she shared with me.