The Simple Life — Travels with Pema

Getting inspiration from great artists in Montmartre, Paris.

Hi Guys,

It’s been a while again since I wrote – sorry to keep you hanging. But, as my great uncle’s second cousin’s former roommate, Sir Tim, used to say, good kibble comes to puppies that wait.

Anyway, we’re here in Slovenia now. I really like this place. I’ve visited another castle, swam in a big lake with the yummiest water ever, dipped my paws in a clear mountain stream, chased a bunny, chased a cat (and those things aren’t easy at my age!), and even got bitten by a fence on my nose as I was making friends with some goats. I don’t really know why that fence had to be so mean; I was just saying hello, and maybe seeing if the goats would taste good, and the fence stung me. It kinda felt like a bee sting, but there was no bee. I yelped pretty loud and jumped back. There’s no way I’m ever going near a fence like that again. But, aside from biting fences, I love Slovenia.

We covered a lot of ground since I last wrote to you.

First, we went to Paris. They say it’s the city of love and the city of light. To me, it felt more like the city of long walks on hot streets with tons of sniffs of stale people pee and some puppy pee, and also the city of sitting in a hotel room a lot while my family abandoned me – yes, abandoned me! – for something like a year. It was so long, I thought they’d never come home. And, that home in Paris kind of smelled bad, too. I think maybe Vinnie had been there and peed on the carpet. Stinky. Why would he do that? I just don’t get Vinnie, and I really don’t want to.

Anyway, my family finally came home, but then they’d leave again. Sometimes they took me with them, but I’d walk really slowly to sniff every sniff. I’m kind of building a database of sniffs and cataloging all the people and puppies who have been where I’ve been. It’s important work, but my family doesn’t really understand and they just keep telling me to keep going while they tug my leash. But, I did see a lot. We walked to Montmartre, where some of my artistic inspirations once lived (Vincent van Puppy, Edgar Dogas, Pupri Matisse, etc.), and saw the Arc de Triomphe, and sipped water and nibbled bits of baguette in Place Saint Ferdinand. It was all pretty special.

We went to Turin – it was my first time to Italy, and I got to eat some pasta and some pizza, and mom and dad bought me some really yummy kibble at a grocery store I could shop in, too. I mean – really?? How awesome is a place that lets me come into the grocery store and do my shopping? The only bad thing was mom and dad wouldn’t let me get in the cart. I think that would have been fun.

After Turin, we went to the mountains called the Dolomites. I loved them. We went for long hikes and met some cows who let me drink from their trough, and life was pretty good. My only complaint was that I can’t climb the mountains I used to run up. Dad and I used to climb some really steep ones, even ones where he’d have to lift me up a section, then he’d climb up, and then lift me up another. He told me it was easy 5th class climbing, but it seemed pretty hard to me. But, we did it, and I wish I still could. I remember my second cousin, Gladish, when she was 14, being told that age is only in your mind. She snapped back: “Yeah, but somehow it’s creeped into my paws and tail and back as well!” I feel her pain.

Through all of this, I’ve just tried to keep things simple, and to focus on the simple things. I’m not a girl who needs much – just a bed, some kibble, maybe a river or a stream, Jeronimo, and a bunch of love. I like a lot of that last bit, and the food part, too. So, what’s a perfect day for me? A good bit of love when I wake up, a bowl of yummy kibble, a hike or a swim, maybe a nap, some more love, another bowl of kibble, a leg rub to keep my stiffness away, and then a good sleep. That’s it. And, with my family, I’m finding those perfect days are every day.

Woof,

Pema