I called the Taxi to drive to the Wombi to the theatre in the city, I did not suspect that the driver, a Mr Milovan, the house blessing would be wrong to hang. Mr Milovan told me in the first five minutes, we were sitting in the rear of his car, from his sad Childhood as a Bosnian orphan, his interrupted education, his unfaithful wife and his three good-for-nothing children.

Christiane Tauzher: The Pubertäterin

Since puberty, our daughter, the mosquito, shortly after her 13. Birthday in your violence, we keep the Windows closed so the neighbors call the police. The Pubertäterin is not loud and unpredictable, when she sleeps, just like a Wombat, or eat – what you do for luck often.

The stories I tell – a journalist, 41, from Vienna, married to Olaf, a 46 – here, not act, of course, the Pubertäterin in my family. No. They come from my thriving imagination or come from other families. There, it is arg in the other families … 😉

right after we got in, had to tape up the Wombi ears with headphones, and the door to the outside world, behind closed. With entrücktem glance, they looked out of the window. From time to time, bobbed to the beat of the music with the feet. You would have to travel a photo of Mr Milovan shown would have sworn under oath to have the man never seen.

It was a long way to the Theater, and we were caught in a short traffic jam. With the flat of the Hand, Mr Milovan hit on the with a sheepskin-covered steering Wheel and said “shit”. But suddenly his face brightened. He grabbed his Smartphone and showed me a photo of his “greatest treasure”. Rocky was the name of the greatest treasure of Mr Milovan and was a long-haired Chihuahua. I took the Smartphone with me in Rocky view. To on the colour of the coat, he looked like our Chihuahua Ruby. “My daughter has one of those,” I said. Mr Milovan would be crashed into for joy over this news almost in the front of the car and braked sharply. The Wombi was a headphone from your ear and you awoke from your Trance. “Look,” I said, pleased with the constant Moment of the attention hoped for, “the Lord also has Vevobahis a Chihuahua.” A serious mistake, as it turned out. The remaining ten kilometers of talked shop Mr Milovan and the Wombi about the nature, upbringing and care of their Chihuahuas. “Is castrated your dog?”, Mr Milovan suddenly asked, “we could have babies.” Two more kilometers. The Wombi was enthusiastic about the idea and immediately wanted to arrange a first Date between Rocky and Ruby to be equal to the impending heat. Luckily, we stopped in this Moment, in front of the theatre, and it was to discuss more details. Mr Milovan gave the Wombi a piece of paper with his number. “Cool,” he said. The Wombi promised.

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Ruby after castration

©Christiane Tauzher stern.de

The next day, the Wombi was sitting in the school, I called our veterinarian to schedule an appointment for the neutering. Because apart from the danger that emanated from the dog of a taxi driver, there was still the danger in the house: our entire pug Spike, heading for the 18. The old Spike suffered each Time the torments of hell, if the little bitch sat in front of his nose, their fragrance notes and it umtänzelte. Actually, nothing more saw, heard and smelled the old Spike. But as soon as Ruby was spacious, was a juvenile jerk due to his osteoarthritis stiff body, and he awoke to new life, marked every kitchen Cabinet and moaned in longing.

Now it must be quick

The Wombi was agreed, Ruby castrate. Your beautiful white dog would mate with the gasping Old man Spike, she had excluded. But that was before Rocky. I had to act quickly. Fortunately, the veterinarian understand the Problem and ordered the Ruby for the next day for surgery.

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As the Wombi found out about it, sobbing and crying as if I have let your dog put to sleep. In practice, the veterinarian, she took the sleepy in a blue stocking is wound in a patient after successful castration in reception. Ruby saw with grassy eyes at her and slumped to the ground again. “This is normal after anesthesia,” the Doctor said, “in a few days it is back to the Old”. The Wombi left the practice, Parking should be free, and he was crying. When she got the dog to be pressed into the car, it was ruby’s head all wet from the many tears. “You killed my dog,” cried the Wombi, when we were alone in the car.

“no,” I said gently, “we have to let him castrate you.” The Wombi kissed her head, the wet geweinte Dog. “You will never be the same,” she sobbed, and fresh tears rolled down. “You will be fat and snappy and maybe you die too,” wehklagte the Wombi. “You’ll see,” I said, “that’s not going to happen.”

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Ruby and Spike do not lead now a Platonic relationship

©Christiane Tauzher stern.de

“You’re a God,” shrieked the Wombi. A bit, I found, because it would be gone to God, had Mr Milovan and Rocky in our family, and the old Spike would have died of a broken heart.

P. S.: Ruby has become neither fat nor snappy, and alive she is. Spike’s feelings for Ruby are cold.

P. P. S.: With the Taxi, we drove for the sake of safety since then.