Hamster Weken

It's Hamster Weken (Hamster Soak) month at our local grocer...what the hell does that mean?!?!? Do I really want to buy that new special sausage on sale in the deli case? And why is this hamster flipping me off in all the advertisments?

"Ja, ja, ja. Spike is a dirty old bastard!"

Kids Bikes for Katie & Jody 

Doggie Theme Park 

TERRORISTS!!!!!!

Tonight, as Sage and I took our evening stroll through Schoterbos, her favorite park here in Haarlem, Sage was the victim of a vile, premeditated, and perfectly coordinated assault. The only thing that spared her was her ability to cut a 90-degree corner while leaping 3 feet (1 meter) into the air. Osborn, an elderly and somewhat sluggish German Shepard could not make that cut. He was brought down by the attack. The events you are about to read are disturbing, and not for the feint of heart. I only repeat them here so that the rest of you can be warned and keep a vigilant lookout for these evildoers, these haters of freedom, these un-Christian doggie terrorists.

The evening started calmly enough. I let Sage run loose at the designated leash “disembarking” point at the far North West corner of the park. She likes to start out here because the Jan Gijzenvaart Canal gives her a place to drink and gain energy for romping with all of her friends. We then walked down along the community garden area, meeting up with Judy and Eddie, who we stopped and played with for 10-15 minutes. They were headed out, so Sage and I continued on alone to the main field where all of the dogs and owners hang out after dinner. As we rounded the corner it appeared that we were in for a great evening. It was a large crowd. Larger than any gathering we had seen here before. We recognized some of the dogs – Mozart, Pepper…ah, and there was Kye, one of Sage’s favorite friends. But there were also many new fresh faces to meet.

I was still 15 meters behind her as she loped across the field to join in on all the fun. . And then, at the center of the field, the most vulnerable point with no trees, no bushes, no cover, the terrorists struck.

The assailants were two Maltize/Shih-Tzu/Pekinese mixed types. Even you don’t recognize the name of the breed, you know this kind of dog. These are the little foo-foo lap dogs, fully adorned with yellow and red ribbons in their hair, yapping their way across the field toward Sage. They were coming in aggressively fast, shoulder-to-shoulder, nose-to-nose.

Sage stopped and eyed the two curiously. This hesitation seemed to bolster their confidence and they increased their stride. Their stubby little legs worked in perfect unison as if they were one dog, neither outpacing the other.

Sage didn’t like what she saw (and heard) from these two little vermin. She bolted to the left, tail between her legs. They smelled her fear, further fueling their adrenaline and giving them a speed that I’ve never witnessed in these ratty little dogs. They exploited the open field and quickly closed the gap to a single meter between them and their victim. Sage, sensing their closeness, cut right. They cut right. Sage doubled back and did an amazing jumping left twist toward the hedgerow. They made the same cut, in perfect unison, and were able to keep pace with Sages aerobatics.

I looked on in amazement at how these two dogs seemed to share a common brain, a common thought process. It was like nothing I had seen before; almost as if they were one entity, joined by some psychic link that allowed them to think for and with each other.

By this time, the incessant yapping drew the attention of the crowd of dogs and people over at the benches. They had all stopped their conversations and butt sniffing and seemed to be enjoying the spectacle unfolding on the field. Only Osborn, the older German shepherd was oblivious to the rising tension. He started trotting across the field to get a closer perspective on the action.

Sage was closing in on the hedgerow as quickly as the two little terrorists were closing in on her. A final cut to the left and she would reach the relative safety of the laurel bush. Osborn was close now and had distracted Sage’s attention. She stopped briefly to touch noses with him. The two attackers did not stop. At the last possible second, Sage leaped backwards and into to the hedgerow. She covered a full meter in a single bound. The speed at which the two assailants were able to adjust their target was truly impressive. They still had fresh meat in their sights. And that meat was now Osborn. Without breaking stride, one streaking furball went to the left and one went to the right of the large German shepherd, as if to circle and intimidate him. It was a beautifully calculated move. But neither I, nor obviously Osborn anticipated the full extent of this underhanded strategy. It caught us both off guard.

Osborn went down! Thrown to the ground as if his feet were yanked from underneath him. Then I saw the fine, silver chain that connected the two little attack yappers. The chain that brought Ossie down. This synthetic umbilical cord seemed to give them strength and courage not usually found in these little rodents. They puffed up their chests and stood basking in their accomplishment. In their short, nasal panting, you could hear the grunting snickers of Beavis and Butthead. The crowd cheered.

Rambling notes on PARKS, PEOPLE, and of course, DOGS

There are four parks that we’ve been taking Sage to since arriving. These have been the mainstay of getting her (and us) acclimated to the Dutch culture. I’m capturing some notes for future reference and thought that you might enjoy them. Here are notes on two of the parks.

Huis Te Zaannen – This is our little local park. It’s only one block down the street from us and is about 10 acres of mostly open and mowed parkland. There is a beautiful old mansion (huis) set right into the middle of it. When you see this house, you’ll understand colonial architecture on the East coast of the states…this is a very similar architectural root. We’ve been told that the house and land was donated to the city some time ago. The first floor of the mansion is now used for public meetings and someone lives on the second floor. Many paths, lined with big old trees and laurel hedgerows, zigzag across the park. A generous dose of benches is scattered about and there is a fenced playground with all the great old equipment that has since been banned in the US. A large concrete sandbox and stone patio dominates one corner of the park. It is the only section in disrepair, overrun with weeds and strewn with garbage. I think that the city leaves this area run down intentionally because it is the hangout of the local biker gangs. Of course, here in Holland that means teenagers on scooters. I’ve seen 25 of them in one evening just milling around in this area – smoking cigarettes and making out – fun, harmless stuff.

The best part of this park is that it is Loslooplaats for dogs. This means a “free running park…no leashes required”. Of course, there are many toddlers in the playground area, but remember, the playground is fenced. Isn’t that great! The KIDS are fenced in while the dogs run free…now here is a country that gets it right!

This park is pretty mellow with dogs, generally having only 2 or 3 wandering the paths at any given time. However, there is a larger group of people that gather here each evening for socializing and running their dogs after work. A small brick and iron fence in the center field serves as a focal point for the owners to gather and talk while their dogs run wild in the field. Sage’s favorite friend at this park is McGregor, or Mac for short. He’s a 1-year-old beagle. When he’s not finding something incredibly gross to chew on (like rotting banana peels), he can actually give Sage a pretty good run for her money. Mac’s owner is a really nice Dutch Malaysian man who has been living over here since he was a boy. He seems to enjoy speaking with us in English and has been giving us tips on the area. There is also a pit bull mix, which is an unusual breed since it is illegal to own a pure pit bull in The Netherlands, that Sage frequently runs with. The owner, Noami, is about 23 and a hard-core Euro punk rocker. You should see the outfits that she wears! Fishnet stockings, black Converse high tops, nose rings … the whole nine yards. Again, she’s a very nice person who was really anxious to get to know us since her dog only has 4 friends that it will run with….Sage now being the fifth. There is also a young Bull Terrier in this park named Prince. (“How do you say his name in Dutch? “Prince”). He was hit by a car and broke his back leg when he was only 6 months old. He’s now healed and seems no worse for the wear, but it is hilarious to watch him run. He draws his back leg the whole way across his body and then kicks it outward to push off and compensate for his childhood injury. When he’s barreling after Sage at full tilt, it looks like he is skipping across the field…you have to see it to believe it.

The biggest drawback to this park is that there is no water. For that, we go to Schoterbos.

Schoterbos – This is the much bigger, and more raucous park about a 10-minute walk from our house. The entire complex, including petting zoo, soccer fields, baseball diamonds and old-folks home is about 200 acres and is the biggest park in this quadrant of the city. There are 50 acres of fields, woods, canals, paths, bridges and ponds that are designated as Loslooplaats for dogs. Being her favorite park, and being so close to home, we hit Schoterbos at least twice a day, spending our evenings in small groups chatting with the other dog owners while the dogs sniff butts, chase balls, and dig holes to China. Since Sage has so much energy, more energy than any other dog in the park, Beth and I are constantly scouting for “fresh meat” and moving around the park to get her interacting with as many dogs as possible. Of course, this helps us meet some very interesting folks as well.

We’ve all made some great friends here, starting with the goats, sheep, and ponies at the petting zoo. Sage is still scared of them a bit, ever since one goat head-butted her through the fence…just like Emma used to do back in PA.

There are to many people (and not enough remembered names) to mention here. I’ve just jotted down some notes for future reference.

Peiter and Ben – These two were quite the combination. We spoke with them for 1.5 hours last week as our dogs ran wild in the park. Peiter has a really cute little Bull Terrier that he rescued from the Humane Society. But unfortunately, it does not like Jack Russel Terriers…and Holland is full of Jack Russels. He said that his dog would attack these other dogs on sight so he only goes off a leash when the coast was clear. We all constantly surveyed the surroundings for any sign of a small dog. However, he also had a 16-month Boxer that was able to stay off leash and actually keep up with Sage. They played great together. Peiter is a true, hardcore, Dutchman, and a really interesting character. Although we’re not sure what he does for a living. He was somewhat G-Q-ish, with lots of bracelets and the factory torn jeans that are popular over here. He had just returned from a holiday in Brittany (France) and was railing against the locals for not speaking English. “Those damned French. They are so smug with their language. They don’t even try to speak English! Unless of course you are going to spend a bit of money, then all of a sudden they speak it perfectly”. It was pretty funny to hear a Dutchmen criticizing French for not speaking English. Ben on the other hand is another IT guy….although more on the networking side of the house (Novell). He has run his own company and is thinking of starting up again now that the economy is improving. He is a real wiseass, kind of like Joe, and it was hard to tell when he was joking or not…really funny perspective on life. They also were pretty down on the Germans. “We’re still fighting that war a bit. I guess it’s like your Southerners over there in the states.”.

The two French sisters…who married Dutch brothers and all live in the same house here in Haarlem. They spoke only broken English, but were a hoot to talk with. They were so alive, engaged with life, and animated in their language and stories. They each had an old Basset hound…no that’s not right, they were some sort of “French” Basset hound, although they looked like your garden variety to me. They are in their 60’s, but get all decked out each evening, including garish red lipstick, for their walk in the park with their dogs.

Judy and Eddie - Eddie is the dog. She just moved back to Haarlem from Australia after breaking up with a boyfriend. Her mother has also just died, so she is here to take car of her father. She wants to go back to Canberra, but is enjoying time here in The Netherlands. The canal is lined with a small wooden wall that keeps the banks from eroding. However, there is one spot that serves as the doggy gathering area where the sides are broken down and they can easily climb back up out of the water. When we first met Judy, we were throwing sticks into the water to try and get Sage to jump from the side of the canal. Sage, very hesitantly, was starting to “plop” into the canal from the 9 inch bank. Judy just laughed, picked up a stick and threw it into the water for Eddie. He raced to the edge and dove 6 feet into the canal after the stick. He literally “attacked” the water and showed what a dork Sage was being by not jumping right in.

The young Nepalese guy. Sage had a great time running with his dog. They zoomed at full speed for about 20 minutes as we spoke. He married a Dutch girl and is now living in Haarlem. He said that he feels like a refugee from Nepal because of all the Maoist rebels and instability in his own country.

The Egyptian proprietor at the Bor Snackshop down the street from us. He speaks very broken English, but when I stopped in for a doubleburger he immediately recognized me from my walks with the dog. “Hond, right?” “You American? You like big hamburger and fries, right?” He now waves to me every time that I walk past. We’ve since tried his sholram, or classic Egyptian lamb dish. It was excellent.

We’ve learned an interesting tidbit that helps us understand why we’re so easily pegged for foreigners….at least among the dog folks. Most people seem to think that we’re Brits even after speaking with us and hearing our distinctly non-British accents. They know that we have brought Sage from another country because of her cropped tail. It is no longer legal to alter a dog’s appearance here in The Netherlands. They consider tail and ear cropping as cruel and unnatural meddling with the animals welfare.
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Windmill 

Grocery Shopping 

Birthday Party 

Now THAT's small! 

Can anyone translate this Dutch for us? 

Bike roads and drawbridge 

Biker Chick Beth 

Jean at Watkins Glen 

Watkins Glen 

Sage in Holland Park 

Front of House 

Back Yard of House 

Beth's new wheels 

The end of an era....and what's with the leg? 

Family Homestead