…because not all who wander are lost.

It’s time for Mufasa to have his own facebook page. He’s on dogbook, but it’s just not enough. People tag me in photos of him… you know like they do with womens’ kids, too… only the inference is somehow not the same. Right now all the little photos that show up on my facebook Wall are of Mufasa. I love him madly, but the implication is that I’m a dog.

I’m single and that simply Will. Not. Do.

He needs his own page.

Plus, he has adventures like you would not believe. We must post his own photos.

It’s amazing how even six years into this expat adventure everyday occurrences are still remarkable enough that I wish I’d brought my camera. NOTE TO SELF: Remember to carry phone or camera everywhere.

Today Mufasa and I walked to the grocery store in Zollikon. It’s a big store, busy, on the town square. I tied him up right in the middle of the action — something I’d NEVER have done in the U.S. because you just don’t do that as often and because he was much younger and wilder and apt to misbehave.

He’s older now, more subdued. Actually, I have to face that he is quite old. It’s so difficult for him to sit I cannot ask him to do that anymore. He had a seizure Saturday night before last and seems fine now, but it was a pretty long one and he’s never had one before. The vet said it may not even be worth all the tests to see what caused it, just watch to see if he has one again, and then we’ll decide what to do. He’s old.

So there he was today: giant old dog, tied up in the middle of the town square in Zollikon, Switzerland. Instead of telling him to sit I had him lie down on the ground facing the grocery (he was pretty far away looking across the square). I peeked over my shoulder as I walked into the store and he was holding his head up so straight and proud, like a baby allowed to sit at the Big Kids’ table for the first time.

I shopped quickly because you never know what kind of trouble a hundred pound dog might get into while you’re not looking. I didn’t hear him, which (unlike with kids) was good.

The scene that greeted me outside in the square made me laugh out loud. There he was, paws straight out in front of him still holding his head up all regally as if he were the most gorgeous dog ever born, smack in the middle of a tight ring of crouching 4-year-olds. They were very close to him, only inches from every part of his body, and had clearly been instructed not to move or touch him. It was something to see – about 10 perfectly still preschoolers in special bright orange reflective outing gear, feet flat on the ground, little rumps resting on all their heels, hands held behind their backs, peering into his beaming face. The dog was smiling as if he’d been crowned Miss America and given a beefsteak bone instead of a tiara.

I told the teacher it was ok, they could pet him, and four or five nearly dove onto him. He didn’t move at all, just laid still and let their little fingers pet his crazy-long, silky fur.

I wonder how many of those sweet little Swiss German kids will tell their parents about him at dinner tonight.

Every day this dog amazes me. He teaches me patience and consistency. I might not have lived this expat adventure the way I have if it were not for him.

Wednesday morning we’re going on the train back out to HundeLand, his new favorite place, and they will surely post more photos of him on facebook. He’ll have his own facebook page by then.

ADDENDUM: When I tried to make him a facebook account it told me he was ineligible, I guess because he’s too young. LOL.

At the Olten train station after his visit to Hundeland he fell asleep on the platform. It’s hard work playing so much!

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