Something fairly important to know about me is that I love dogs. I coo over dogs like other women coo over babies. I want to befriend every dog I see, whereas I think that most babies – particularly newborns – look like potatoes in hats. I can imagine that this tendency would annoy the bejeezus out of some people, but luckily BV finds it cute. So much so that when we adopted Marry die Katze from the animal shelter, we couldn’t even go into the dog room, because BV knew that we’d come out with a dog. We’ve been locked in an ongoing negotiation for the duration of our relationship on how many dogs we can have. I started at ten, he started at one, and at present I have him up to two and a half. Which half it will be, is to be determined.
Since I spend a lot of time noticing the various four-legged friends out and about in the world, it follows that we have a lot of conversations about dogs. Oddly enough though, at no point in BV’s English education did he learn different dog breeds! Horrible, I know. We also run into this same language gap when it comes to trees, flowers, sea creatures, and assorted other topics. It makes for some entertaining conversations, and a fair amount of reliance on the glory of Google.
Not long ago, we were enjoying a post-shopping stop in one of Nürnberg’s Irish Pubs and when I looked around for the waiter, I saw something much more interesting.
H: “Ohhhhhh, there’s a gorgeous Australian Shepherd over there!”
BV: “A what?”
H: “An Australian Shepherd? It’s a breed of dog. He has beautiful mottled fur, and looks like he has the blue eyes too.”
BV: “Huh, I’m not sure if I know that one. I can’t see it from here though.”
H: “Eh, you can just look when we leave. I’ve got no service down here, otherwise I’d look for a picture. It’s beautiful though… trust me.”
One beer later for us, and the table with the dog was leaving the bar…
BV: “Oh, there goes the dog. Wow, that is beautiful. But that’s not what I thought it looked like.”
H: “Really? What did you think it would look like?”
BV: “I guess I thought it would be a combination of a German Shepherd and a Dingo.”
H: *blank stare*
BV: “An Australian Shepherd? Like a German Shepherd mixed with a Dingo.”
H: *laughs, laughs more*
I pretty much spent the rest of the evening muttering “dingo” under my breath and giggling.
So to review, this plus this
may equal this…
Sorry honey, but I don’t think so.
Some friends have commented that BV’s English is now so good that we should exclusively speak German together so that I can get caught up. But clearly there are some hugely important gaps in his vocabulary that need to be filled. And certainly we’ll be needing that vocabulary to figure out which ten dogs we’ll be having.
And now, I’m off to Google image search for puppies. Puppies!