an american in belgië : Where's Winslow Now

Winslow has been in Belgium for a whole year now. This time last year he was on a journey.

Our journey to Winslow began way before that.

In 1995, Jim went to the pound and picked up a puppy. He was from a litter of five and we called him Shakespeare. He immediately came down with Parvo, we nursed him back to health while the remainder of the litter at the pound perished. We joked that Shakespeare was our third child and we treated him like it. He went everywhere with us. When we went somewhere dogs weren't allowed, we hired a dog-sitter or our parents stepped in. He never spent a night in a kennel until the one night we had no choice.

One day he was healthy, the next he was limping, and within a few days he was seriously sick. He stayed at the Emergency Vet where despite their best effort he just couldn't get well. That was 12 years after 1995 and needless to say we were devastated when he died. Jim wrapped him up, took him to the shop, built a sturdy box for him, and me and Jim and Ross buried him in our backyard on a very hot July night.

I vowed to be petless after that. It just wasn't worth the heartache. And we did that for over a year. I missed having a dog so much and one day I decided to call the pound. Just to see if there was a small dog available to be adopted. There was and we drove over just to take a look. There were so many nice, friendly dogs. Then we saw the dog I'd been told about over the phone. Ironically he looked a lot like Shakespeare. He was almost impossible to catch and scared to death.

After sitting with him for a while we decided to take him home and Ross named him Winslow. Once he was off the leash we couldn't catch him. When he was in the house he hid and when we let him outside he'd hunker down behind the shrubs and lay as flat as possible so we couldn't see him. After a couple of weeks he let me touch him, but after three weeks he still wouldn't let Jim or Ross near him. We sat down and discussed whether to take him back to the pound. We thought we'd done all we could do and he just wasn't coming around.

After some tears, we knew we couldn't bring ourselves to take him back and I guess it was some time in the next couple of weeks he warmed up enough to let Jim and Ross in the room and he seemed to like me okay. He did finally make himself at home, but there were still some issues. He was quite mischievous. When left home alone he would tear up all the magazines within reach, bring dirty clothes into the living room. Nothing too serious unless you count chewing up Jim's Blackberry beyond recognition, destroying Ross's computer power cord, removing the heels from my black leather pumps . . .

Well, that was 2007 and you'd never know he almost lost the dog lottery.

Fast forward to 2009 and our move to Belgium. Naturally, Winslow would come with us so we began to figure out just what it takes to get a dog from point A to point B. With all the paperwork involved, the microchip, the assimilation to the crate, a couple of months of dog-sitting by the parents, waiting for the perfect temperature in Shreveport, Atlanta, and Brussels. No pet travel from May to September. Temperatures at all locations not more than 85 degrees and not less than 45 degrees. Turns out this is near impossible. Jim schedules a trip hoping to pick the best days of the year for optimum temperature ranges across the globe.

Winslow's journey one year ago started in Jefferson, Texas. An hour drive to the Shreveport airport. Load up in the crate. Fly early enough in the day that the temperature doesn't reach the unacceptable 85 in Shreveport. Flight to Atlanta. Pick crate up at baggage claim. Shuttle to the hotel. Stay overnight in hotel since a dog can't stay in a crate for 24 hours. Shuttle back to the airport. Check crate for flight to Brussels. Temperature in Atlanta hovering near 85, but not quite there. But as luck would have it, the temperature upon arrival in Brussels 10 hours from now is to be 42 degrees. Yeah, I know that's less than 45, but when is the temperature EVER going to be perfect at all three locations?

After some back and forth with the Delta rep, by some stroke of luck, she says go ahead. Jim sprints to make the plane not really knowing if Winslow makes it onto the plane or not. The next morning he lands in Brussels and heads for the baggage claim where he sees our crate and hears a tail wagging :) Naturally they've lost Jim's luggage so Winslow's stuck in the crate for another hour while Jim makes a baggage claim. Then the hour drive to Hasselt.

So a whole year has passed for "an american hondje in belgie".

He's completely adapted to city life. Staircases, escalators, elevators, hotels, rain, traffic, bicycles, riding in the car for hours, snow, going to restaurants, shopping for shoes. He's done it all.

With the exception of Jim's Blackberry, my black leather pumps and Ross's power cord, this dog has never chewed up anything else. Okay, just this one thing. Seriously, you would never think this dog would do something like this.

This is my computer power cord and Jim has spliced it five times now. Just since we've been in Belgium. But it's really not Winslow's fault. Really. He loves to chew on tennis balls and can clean the felt off a tennis ball in an hour. So you can imagine when he's dismantling a tennis ball and the power cord is right there . . . well, you get the picture. Here it is.