I noticed the dog’s now exhibiting rapid breathing, and so thanks to Google he’s either anaemic or having heart failure.  Why my pets always get sick on the weekends when only the expensive emergency vet is available, I don’t know.  I’ll take Ricky to my vet tomorrow to confirm the diagnosis.  I’m already saying good-bye to the new set of summer tires I’ve been informed I need.

It’s either the tires or the vet’s fee, and because we all know how obsessive I am about my pets, the dog trumps my safety on the road.  But instead of being totally glum about what this all means, I decided the best thing to do is to look for a new puppy.

Two people already answered my e mails, one saying she’d just had a litter of 9 standard dachshund puppies last winter, and they just placed the last one in February.  The other kennel also had a litter around the same time, and both said there won’t be another litter for a year and a half!

I think there are 6 standard dachshund breeders in Canada, so the dogs are as rare as attractive men over the age of 50.  Miniature dachshunds are everywhere, but I would really love to have another dog like Arnie was.  He was so sweet and devoted; we were happy as long as we were in each other’s company.

I had pleasant company over yesterday for Kaffee und Kuchen, which is a delightful German tradition.  The typical German way of eating involves a fairly hearty breakfast, a hot lunch, coffee and cake around 3:30 or 4:00 and some bread and cold cuts or cheese around 7:00 PM.

The German relatives, Nicola and Sebastian came over and I had made chocolate cupcakes with white butter icing and pineapple upside down cake with whiping cream.  Margaret gave me a sweet white cake stand years ago onto which I piled the variously decorated cupcakes.

I made a pot each of coffee and tea and the table was all set with my beautiful Pembroke Aynsley china, including the set’s to-die-for pot.  I have an old art deco cream and sugar set from Marlin which I put out.  I placed my dear grandmother’s sugar spoon, brought in a wooden crate by sea from Germany so many years ago, beside the sugar bowl.

I had my pal Alison’s mom Pauline’s pink tablecloth on the table, and a bouquet of pink alstroemeria in my favourite Bohemia Crystal vase as a centre piece.  Pauline’s pink napkins completed the lovely picture.

Nicola sighed when she looked at the table, because let’s face it, one would feel as though they’d fallen down the rabbit hole, coming in from the yard.  Did I mention Luke’s car is still up on blocks out there, hood up, doors open, wheels off?

The three of us sat down and horfed down as many cupcakes and pieces of cake as we could, washed down with cups of tea and coffee drenched in cream and sugar.  After about an hour of this we all felt slightly dizzy, yet happy.  You can see why this lovely tradition should never die.