I had unexpectedly slept in until 7:30, which both shocked and delighted me. I am part of the tribe who mean it when they say that they are morning persons.
What was going on weatherwise defies any euphemism: it was chucking it down. I debated whether it might be advisable to wait until the shops opened and buy a rubber boat, So that we could row home. I decided against it and since Gudrun had always taken us safely to wherever we had wanted to go, I hoped that he would just do it this time too.
And he did. We floated across France like a twenty-first century female Noah and her dog. We calmly bore the torrential rains with which the Heavens seemed to be washing away any trace of our perambulatory sins.
There were no traffic jams and no inconveniences worth noting. The trip went as smoothly as a trip can be when water clouds your windshield and vision. Today, water presented itself with absolutely all of its anomalous properties and in every single one of its wondrous states of aggregation. It snowed and hailed in three different parts of the country, and the temperatures dropped to 2.5°C.
We didn’t stop until we had reached Switzerland, after about 6 hours of solid driving. At customs, nobody cared (anybody else starting to notice a theme here?) and we happily drove on. Homeward bound.
Aramis was determined to get in as much sleep as he could and was neither seen nor heard throughout the entire journey. Only when his attention was imperatively required, at péage stations, for example, did he look up to see why the car had come to a halt.
We arrived at my parents’ house at around 2 and were welcomed very warmly. We went for a walk with the dog, exchanged gifts, and had a nice cup of tea. Aramis was ready to go home, but he would have to endure our paying two more visits before we would set off for the final leg to complete this journey.
I went to see one of my closest friends where I joined a lively debate between her and her partner about how to paint the façade of their house. The difficulty of this decision was increased by the fact that their shutters were emerald green. Orange, as a contrasting colour, would be too bold. On the other hand, a warm, eggshell yellow we deemed too traditional, too philistine. A particular shade of lilac with a blueish hue was considered, but was considered too girly and possibly too hip. The issue remains to be solved.
By this time, poor Aramis truly had had enough. My friend owns more dogs than Aramis was happy to meet, particularly in his current state. He more than clearly signalled that he wanted to go home and if that was not possible, he would rather wait for me in the car until I was ready to go.
One more visit to make, however, and a very important one to me. I had not seen my grandfather in a while and wanted to say hello before setting off. It is he who passed on his love of dogs to me. He adores Aramis and fortunately, the retirement home where he lives is very open-minded about visitors bringing their dogs. Whenever grandfather sees Aramis, he gives him a scrutinizing look and tells him: ‘I think you’ve grown. You must have, since I saw you last.’ Aramis is 5 years old. Whenever I try to intervene, my comment is gently dismissed with a soft, friendly movement of his hand. I find this so endearing that I truly hope he’ll never stop saying it.
We arrived at home at just before 7 pm. The odometer, set to 0 moments before we left, 16 days ago, was now showing 4583 kms. I’m exhausted, but content. And so very grateful for everything we’ve experienced and for everyone we met in the past few days. Thank you, for having been part of it – as a friend, a host, a random encounter, a reader. Thank you. It was the right decision to do this trip.
Aramis is lying in his favourite spot, fast asleep and unawares of the snow-storm outside. His legs are moving, his nose it twitching. He is busy chasing rainbows. I’m sure he’s reliving our most recent adventures together. Or may he be dreaming of those we are yet to have?
The Adventures of Aramis 