Never Mess with Loucrates E-Book

Martina Costa

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 185

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

She is impulsive and bubbly, he is deliberate and philosophical. Yet despite their differences, Lakota, the American Water Spaniel, and Loucrates, the Greek Wild Dachshund, are a dream team, from which we can all learn. They provide answers to life's pressing questions, including why bobsledding can be a cure for motion sickness and how looking for shooting stars might bring you closer to luck than you would like. Dispersing wit and wisdom, they cause chaos throughout and party until the full moon barks. This book is full of humorous dog stories with a wink and a pinch of transatlantic heartbreak.

Leseprobe

Martina Costa

Never Mess with Loucrates

Water Spaniel meets Wild Dachshund

Translated by Michael S. Neininger

© 2023 Martina Costa

Umschlag, Illustrationen und Layout: D.T. Schwarte

www.freizeit-werkstatt.de

Lektorat, Korrektorat: Mea Kalcher

www.meakalcher.de

Übersetzung: Michael S. Neininger, Seattle

Druck und Distribution:

tredition GmbH, Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg, Deutschland

ISBN

Paperback         978-3-384-03641-4

e-Book               978-3-384-03642-1

Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über https://dnb.dnb.de abrufbar.

Alle Rechte vorbehalten. /All rights reserved. Das Werk, einschließlich seiner Teile, ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Nachdruck oder Kopien, auch auszugsweise, nur mit schriftlicher Genehmigung der Autorin.

Die Erwähnung der Internetseiten im Buch ist mit den Inhabern abgesprochen. Für den Inhalt der Interseiten sind ausschließlich die jeweiligen Inhaber verantwortlich.

The owners of the websites cited in the book have consented to their inclusion. All material on their websites is their responsibility.

Die Publikation und Verbreitung erfolgen im Auftrag der Autorin, zu erreichen unter: tredition GmbH, Abteilung "Impressumservice", Halenreie 40-44, 22359 Hamburg, Deutschland.

The original German version is titled "cool & kess mit Loukrates" and was published on 3/25/2023

Introduction: Wild Dachshund and Water Spaniel

Hello, I am Lakota and I am one of the first American Water Spaniels to be born in Germany in 2018. It was a nice present for my breeder when my mom put me under the Christmas tree with my five siblings on Christmas Day.

Although the American Water Spaniel has been the state dog of Wisconsin since 1985, we are a rather rare hunting dog breed, even in the United States. There are said to be only 3,000 of the small brown dogs, as we are also called, worldwide.

Most live in the US. In Europe we are represented in Germany, Finland, France, England and the Czech Republic, among others.

The Native Americans are said to have appreciated our intelligence and versatility, which is why our ancestors were known as Indian Dogs. We were bred primarily to retrieve ducks shot from the boat. Ducks, geese and especially pheasants are still our prey pattern today.

In America there is a dedicated dog owner who is researching old documents about our history and has created a great website for it: www.sconniebrowndogs.com.

For example, there is a newspaper article from 1925 that describes the AWS, as we are abbreviated, as a dog with a human brain. That impressed me.

We must have had a special bond with bipeds from early on, and not just through hunting. There are historical photos in which our ancestors are sitting at the breakfast table with the people. Another image shows one of our early ancestors proudly seated in a chair while a smartly dressed lady stands by and they both pose for the photographer.

Typical for us are the focused gaze and the enormously long, curly ears. In contrast to many people and most dogs, this enables us to chew on our own ears – which we sometimes enjoy doing after longer meals. Our fur is tightly curled or wavy. Chocolate lovers would say the color spectrum ranges from whole milk to dark.

In this book I report on my everyday life with my hunting dog partner Lou, a Greek Dachshund/Greyhound mix, called Wild Dachshund for short. Lou is about three years older than me and was placed in Germany by an animal protection organization. He and his siblings, The Seven Dwarfs with Floppy Ears, were abandoned at the age of almost two weeks without a mother in a cardboard box in front of the premises of an animal protection organization in Chalkidiki.

He's different than me, but we complement each other perfectly. Of course, he must add his two cents to everything. Although he does not come from Delphi, as a genuine Greek, he has a penchant for oracles in his blood. Loucrates, as we call him, is a thinker on four paws, a philosopher from the food bin and comments on my experiences accordingly.

Both of us and our ghostwriter wish all readers a lot of fun with the stories from our everyday life.

Anyone who would like to know more about my breed can find out more on our club's website:

www.americanwaterspanielclub.org

Information about the work of the animal rights activists who rescued Lou and his predecessor Costa is available on:

www.animalpardnet.de

Romance in the Field: My first date with Lou

Ihave been excited all day. I’ve hardly eaten anything and would have liked to nibble on my claws the whole time. I should meet him soon. My breeder said that if we both liked each other, he would be my future life partner, and that he was a handsome fellow with a short and shiny black coat.

Until then I only knew my brothers and the two Springer Spaniels from our pack. They were all smart, but none of them had short black fur. I had no idea what to expect.

The scenery would have done credit to any kitsch film. It was a cold Sunday in February, but sunny and without snow. I waited for him in the meadow behind the settlement where my first date with Lou was to take place. The sun gave everything again before it would go down.

I was about to start the film in my head when I saw him: slim, muscular, with prominent ears and beautiful eyes. When he saw me, there was no stopping him. He stormily pulled his owner behind him on the leash. She stumbled on the inhospitable ground and threw herself into the uncut grass in front of me, not exactly gracefully.

Lou also went down with his front legs to sniff me. Now all three of us were at eye level while the setting sun bathed me in a spectacular light. Hollywood couldn't have done it any better. My future was secured. Fade to black. It’s a wrap!

A few weeks before: How I made a pact with my sister and got into the newspaper

It was the day I would tempt my fate. Or fate me. In hindsight, it is not possible to assess this with any certainty. Our breeder had announced a visit with us. Immediately after I heard the bell on the front door, there was a loud buzz around me. Strange voices, dogs barking.

Before I could see the mysterious intruders, they had to go through the security checkpoint, take off their shoes and place their bags on the chair for inspection.

"Everything’s okay, no danger. You can go in."

The Finnish security force gave her the okay after examining everything in detail and sniffing the contents. I knew I could trust her judgment because she is my mother.

First, a man entered the secure shelter where I had spent the past few weeks with my mom Aena and my five brothers and sisters. Not forever, but for us it was our whole life until then.

At Christmas we were born as American Water Spaniel puppies.

My father Noki had immigrated from America, my mother Aena from Finland. Since we were the first offspring of our kind in Germany, our breeder informed the newspaper.

A reporter followed the photographer. I overheard her telling my breeder that she had lost her female Rica a few weeks ago, but didn't want a new female for the time being so she could attend to her rescue male dog.

"If I decide to get a new dog, then it should not be a puppy, nor a pedigree dog and especially not one with longer fur," I heard her voice.

"Aha", my breeder commented calmly, and inwardly I agreed with her.

Perfect conditions, I thought. She wouldn't even notice if I sneak into her heart. My plan was risky, but I just had to try. As soon as she went to the puppy pen in her socks to do her job, I took my chance.

My siblings and I were extremely curious and couldn't wait to get our hands on the unknown bipeds. In the general hustle and bustle I had to manage to get one of my paws under her foot.

The plan worked. As soon as my left front paw had lightly touched the sole of her right foot, I yelped pitifully and hobbled through the enclosure. There's no better way to get full attention. My breeder looked just as horrified as my siblings, the photographer lowered the camera and the reporter immediately bent down to me.

"Oh no, sorry. I'm sorry for that. How did that happen?" she said while petting me extensively.

"Who is that?" asked the woman, who didn't want a puppy, a pedigree dog and certainly not one with longer fur.

"That's Lakota," answered my concerned breeder, while she massaged my paw - the wrong paw, by the way, but in the general excitement it wasn't noticeable.

"Nice name," said the journalist, "reminds me of my soul dog Costa who passed away three years ago.

That’s exactly how I imagined it.

"And who is the one with the red neck band?", she asked further.

Heavens, it won’t fail because of the color.

"This is Yuma, the only curly one in the litter. The others are all wavy," replied the breeder, still massaging my paw.

Shortly thereafter, the photo shoot could continue. A real highlight in our puppy's everyday life. Our breeder was supposed to sit in a corner with us and our mom and look happily into the camera, but getting six lively puppies under one roof was difficult.

At some point the photographer had all the pictures taken and the two women sat down at the table for the interview. Yuma and I were allowed to be there. While my sister lay down at her feet, I was lifted up and first took a look at what she had written down about us on the tabletop.

She wrote my name first, with a "c" instead of a "k". She could have written LaCosta too, for my sake. I crawled over to her, let myself be petted and first prevented her from continuing to practice her profession by taking a short nap in her arms. It was all pretty exciting after all.

"That's what Rica as a pup used to do," she sighed.

If I now reminded her not only of her soul dog Costa, but also of her deceased dog Rica, everything went according to plan. I hatched it with my sister Shasta when we found out that a newspaper reporter was coming to visit us. She really wanted to stay with our mom and not go to another family. Our breeder actually wanted to keep me, so I had to hook up with the reporter who I had heard loved dogs, had a big yard and a medium sized male. Once I found a home, Shasta could take action and claim hers.

Actually, we had already won at that point. Still, I played it safe. When my breeder raised the competition in red in the form of my sister Yuma, and she also began to be interested in the notepad, I quickly occupied the documents by continu ing my nap on them. I look lovely when I sleep. I've been told that several times.

Before I started dreaming about my new home, I shot a conspiratorial look at Shasta, who was watching from the puppy pen.

Later, my new owner said she must have been the only one who didn't understand what was going on that day. Nobody ever contradicted her; neither does the breeder she has been friends with ever since.

"You would have taken Yuma too if I had called her Lakota," she still teases today.

So after I was taken, Shasta was free to go. She was the first to manage to escape from the puppy pen to explore her future surroundings from the basement to the first floor. She was allowed to stay, and Yuma found a great home, as did our three brothers.

Loucrates says:Destiny sometimes comes not only on soft soles, but on socks.

Rosy times can begin in orange: Photo shooting at the milk bar

Before I could move in with my new owner, I saw the reporter a few more times. Not because she had any official questions, but obviously purely out of interest in me. My siblings and I were photographed in all walks of life, romping around, eating, digesting, playing and at our mum's milk bar. Since I found that extremely indiscreet, I gave her a dirty look while drinking - which she found so funny that the photo is now hanging on our kitchen cupboard.

Of course, there was also a first meeting with Lou. The bipeds wanted to see if we could smell each other. Let's be honest: Mediterranean pretty boy meets sugar-sweet puppy lady. What should go wrong?

Everything went perfectly for me. After my future owner stumbled onto the grass in front of me, I grabbed Lou's leash in my snout. I wanted to see if he might follow me in a more civilized manner. No problem. He didn't drag me across the meadow. With that, the Greek greyhound had given me his vows on the inhospitable field.

When I was finally nine weeks old, I moved in with them. My pink collar was previously exchanged for a chic set in my new owner's favorite color. Rosy times can also begin in orange.

Loucrates says:Watch your every step. It could be a significant one.

How I discovered bobsledding and became a calendar model as The Lady of the Camellias

Ifinally arrived in my new home and brought with me everything that my overjoyed owner hadn't wanted. I was a puppy, purebred, with longer curly hair. She didn't seem to think it was that bad. Especially since I proved to be highly talented in my training as a late riser, and the first few nights were a constant head-to-head snoozing between her and me.

After she got up, I would curl up with Lou in the feathers for a while. I was embarrassed that we were constantly being photographed, but our pack photographer was happy that Lou and I seemed to get along just as well as our predecessors Costa and Rica.

Because good habits are supposed to be maintained, when our mistress worked, I lay either on her lap or on the desktop, where, just like when we first met, I gave the paperweight for her documents.

I know I've stepped in big pawprints, and no new dog can replace a deceased one, but I think it was also comforting to my leash owner that I fit inch-perfect into Rica's old puppy harness.

She quickly got used to me, went out with me in almost any weather and learned how to read wind direction and strength by my ears. Depending on where we were out and about, I sometimes needed an underbody wash after a refreshing mud bath.

Papa Noki came to visit once. He jumped for joy when he saw his offspring. Of course, each of us wanted to romp with him and have a photo with him.

I proudly presented my new home and garden to my siblings. At first, they looked like wet poodles. Just like me, initially they couldn't drive without getting sick. Then they drooled like mad. The little curly monsters arrived a soggy mess.

They loved conquering the garden and getting to know Lou. At the end of the day, they even dared to go into the darkened living room, where Lou was already asleep in the armchair. Noticing the gang, he straightened up, put his paws on the seat back, ready to pounce, and started to come over to us.

My siblings didn't recognize Lou and ran away screaming and howling at the supposed beast. I had never seen them like this before. Lou and I looked at each other in confusion. The bipeds laughed heartily at the unexpected conclusion of the visit.

The drooling while driving has subsided quickly for all of us. Today it only happens to me if someone holds something tasty in front of me or if I pick up a scent on the way. If it gets too much for me, I just shake myself so that the drool thread wraps around the snout. I find that practical, but at the other end of the leash the human immediately starts using kitchen paper.

I got rid of my problems in the car by going bobsledding. Bob is my Labi friend and, so to speak, the successor of my predecessor's sister. I was happy to get in the car to visit him. For the two-legged friends, these meetings were coffee at a distance during the pandemic. That wasn't the case for Bob and me. Keeping my distance is not my thing at all.

I became a calendar model in Bob's garden when I placed myself decoratively in a flowering plant and became the Lady of the Camellias. The photo later adorned several dog calendars and even earned me a whole sack of dog food with it in a dog magazine competition, which I of course shared with Lou.

My predecessor didn't drool as I was told. Rica turned into Niagara. In anticipation of a liver sausage sandwich, the drool poured out like a waterfall and smooth as soft soap on the floor. I think it's considerate of me to cleverly wrap my drool around my snout. Our mistress likes that less.

However, our in-house photographer is really delighted when I blow soap bubbles with it. We Water Spaniels are quite good at it: hold something in front of our noses to eat and the bubbles on our lips will pop. It combines gluttony with an aesthetic quality. Then the camera is pulled out to capture how the whole world is reflected in my drool bubbles when the sun is shining.

I now think it's okay to be photographed. Especially if the fee is right. I don't stay still very long for measly treats. It also depends on what is asked of me.

Like my predecessors, I wear reindeer antlers, Halloween costumes and dog sweaters, and for half-Christmas (as we call June 24th) I had my picture taken with sunglasses, a sports magazine and a cool drink on the lawn chair.

We even had a professional photo shoot when we were puppies; the pictures fill an entire book. Costa and Rica were also photographed in a studio atmosphere and later painted. The results could be seen in exhibitions.

As a football fan, Rica was even honored posthumously. During the corona pandemic, spectators were not allowed in the soccer stadiums for a while. That's why a huge banner with fan photos hung over the stands. In the front row: our leash holder and Rica with a fan scarf.

What’s all this fuss about? Every time a home game was broadcast on TV, our owner would sit in front of the screen, her chest swollen with pride, and instead of paying attention to the game, she would only have eyes for the row of seats behind the center line, hoping to catch a hasty glance at a photo that's hanging on our wall anyway. Understand humans.

I prefer to practice posing for my next photo shoot and look forward to bobsledding.

Loucrates says:Enjoy beauty with your own eyes and not through the lens. You can't capture the moment, and sometimes a bubble tells you more about the world than a thousand pictures on the wall.

My partner is a Greyhound - and my dad went to university

If I look at my origins, I could keep my nose higher, but as a hunting dog, it's better to keep it on the ground. My mother is Finnish, and my father is American who lived in Germany for a while and now works in Switzerland. He graduated from college there and tracks down bed bugs. That was in a dog magazine that introduced him as an expert in his field. I was very proud when I heard that.

Mom and dad are multiple champions and have traveled all over Europe to collect titles. Some of my siblings also follow our parents' paw prints and impress the judges.

I guess I’m somewhat out of the ordinary. Regularly bathing, brushing and styling my hair is not really my thing. I want to wear my fur the way I like it. I like to get myself filthy in the garden, hunt rats and mice, bark at hedgehogs, play soccer with enthusiasm and fetch stuffed ducks. We also regularly take part in virtual dog walks and collect certificates and medals there.

Because my breeder knows that I'm comfortable with it, she can live with it and has long since stopped suggesting that my owner clip the fur on my paws and ears or trim the magnificent flag on my tail.

Once she allegedly didn't recognize us on the street because she mistook me for a Quail Dog. But that could also have been a provocation.

Even mistress can now not only distinguish a Water Spaniel from a German Quail Dog, but thanks to night-long studies of relevant social networks, even recognize many of my fellow species living overseas from their facial expressions alone. She can sometimes identify my mom Aena more easily as a model on hoodies and keychains than when she sees her in real life with my siblings Shasta and Wasco. That the dog she's seen on American mugs, bags and t-shirts so many times, Grandpa Dillon is, she now recognizes at first glance.

Here in Germany, I feel a bit like an aristocrat who got married to a member of the middle-class. My partner is a Greyhound/Dachshund mix. Most people burst out laughing whenever she says that. That's why she introduced the term Wild Dachshund (Wilddackel) for Lou. I think that sums it up well.

Lou attaches great importance to the fact that, unlike me, he contains a multitude of purebreds and for a male dog like him a tree trunk is more important than a family tree.