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Puppy Love

Frauke Scheunemann
Chapters (2)
  1. Love
  2. Chapter Fourteen
Cover Image

Puppy

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Love

FRAUKE SCHEUNEMANN

Translated from the German
by Shelley Frisch

Copyright © 2010 Frauke Scheunemann
Translation copyright © 2012 Shelley Frisch

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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This edition published in 2012 by
House of Anansi Press Inc.
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Toronto, ON, M5V 2K4
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LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION

Scheunemann, Frauke Puppy love / Frauke Scheunemann ; translated by Shelley Frisch.

Translation of: Dackelblick.

eISBN 978-1-77089-056-5

I. Frisch, Shelley Laura  II. Title.

PT2720.E95P8613 2012     833’.92     C2011-904022-0

Cover design: UNO Werbeagentur München

image

We acknowledge for their financial support of our publishing program the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council, and the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund.

Anyone who has never had a dog doesn’t know what it means to love and to be loved.

—Arthur Schopenhauer

I would sooner go without a man than without Felix, my dachshund.

—Ingrid Steeger

I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts.

—John Steinbeck

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What a dive! Sure, I knew it wouldn’t be the Ritz, but this accommodation is really the limit. Beyond the pale. Musty and dark – and filthy. I try not to focus on my surroundings, but the muck left behind by my predecessors is hard to miss. Clearly, no one’s been cleaning up round here for quite some time. It’s enough to make me want to howl with rage – how did I wind up in a mess like this? This morning I was in the parlour at Eschersbach Castle, and now this. So I go ahead and howl for real.

‘Give it a rest – you’re getting on my nerves!’ comes the snide remark from off to the left, in the very next second. Right: I forgot to mention the worst part, namely my roommates. Five in all, most of them unbelievably scruffy. It’s not just the way they look. These guys are dim-witted commoners, who of course view a noble guy like me as an easy mark. My family tree goes all the way back to 1723; I bet these ignoramuses can’t even tell a marquess from a marrow dumpling!