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| Cosmo in the morning |
I should have known. I felt it even back in Portland. Ever since the day we decided to move to Budapest, I had been worried sick about the well-being of my animals friends, Cosmo the dog and Zissou the cat. These are my fuzzy children and we all love them to distraction. They are not mere pets but members of the family.
I sort of went numb in the weeks before our move. Why, I'm not sure, but I found it difficult to get much done, which was frustrating for Boone and even for myself. I blame this numbness for what was to come for my dear Cosmo. We went back and forth as to what to do with the furry creatures while we were in Hungary. Leaving them with friends (all of who love them very much as well) meant putting those who rent in an awkward position with their landlord. The idea also created a puzzle as to financing their care while we were away. Do we leave the friends with an allowance for food and vet care or do we just depend on email and the postal service to discuss well-being and send needed money?
There was also the problem of keeping Cosmo, a high energy pooch if there ever was one, as active as he needed to be. All of our friends work very, very hard during the week...Cosmo was accustomed to two daily walks and rousing games of fetch per day with me, plus three to four runs a week with Boone and much time spent outside with Aidan. We all took him on short bike rides and sometimes he pulled Aidan or Boone on the skateboard. Our dear friends, with animals of their own who needed attention, could not commit to that level of activity. And Cosmo, of the two fuzzies, needed this the most.
Ultimately, we decided to bring these two furry boys with us to Hungary. In the end, we left dear, sweet Zissou with our pal Stacey in Portland....and as much as I miss his silky, purring, loaf-like body, he is better off in her "back 40" (our term for Stacey's 1/8 acre of garden paradise) than here in Budapest, where the cats all seem to be terrified of humans and the traffic is insanely manic. Most dogs don't seem to like cats here either, and I have heard tell of dog packs roaming the outskirts of Obuda, hunting cats and ripping them to shreds. As for Zee, he loves humans and does not automatically mistrust dogs since he and Cosmo enjoy a love/tolerate relationship in Portland. At Stacey's, he sleeps where I used to sleep, can hunt and roam the back 40 without a care, and patiently awaits our return.
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| Sweet Steve Zissou in his garden |
Flashback to those days before we arrived in Budapest: we did a little research...what were the EU requirements as far as bringing animals from the States over? How much would it cost to ship them? We had so much to do, and the research we did as to these questions turned out to be too little too late. Each European country is different with their requirements...Hungary does not require an extended quarantine for dogs that have proper rabies documentation and a stamp from a USDA certified vet. We were under the impression that our vet was one of these certified vets (they told us as much) and that Cosmo's current rabies vaccine would be enough to get him into Hungary legally.
So Cosmo was on his way and would land here a week after we arrived in Budapest, on a Friday. We were so excited to see him and give him all kinds of love after his grueling, 20 plus hour trip in crate down in the belly of a plane. The day he arrived, Aidan and I went with András out to Ferihegy Airport to claim him. We knew it was going to be some sort of lengthy ordeal, as most official actions here tend to be, but we had no idea at all just how awful this would become. After an hour of driving and two hours of waiting, we were told that there was a problem. My heart sank. There was a missing stamp and insufficient rabies vaccination record. Cosmo was in the country illegally and should be sent back immediately, but, the vet was a kind man and an animal lover himself so he agreed to keep Cosmo over the weekend until we could obtain previous rabies records as well as the all important stamp. If we could not find the records and could not come up with the money to send him back, the vet would have to put him down. This was unacceptable, and my sweet boy dog had done nothing to deserve such a fate. I would rather be put down myself, honestly.
This made for one hellish weekend, spent at the internet cafe and Corvinus University on their computers, trying desperately to locate Cosmo's previous vaccination records and to figure out how to obtain this magical stamp. The Humane Society back in Redmond Oregon, where we had adopted Cosmo, had no record of him whatsoever. Their files dated only back to 2005, and we adopted him in 2004. Screw that angle.
The vet who neutered and vaccinated him after adoption claimed to have not vaccinated him at all, which was bullshit, because I had his vaccination tags as proof. But with no official record, we were feeling helpless and hopeless. Again, there was the stamp...where to get the stamp.
In the meantime, we moved out of our hostel and into a new flat. All of us suffered...Boone was a nervous wreck, overloaded with a ton of new and unexpected responsibilities, and worried sick about Cosmo. Aidan was dealing with being in a brand new school, not speaking the language, missing his friends in Oregon and his dog desperately. He remained the stoic little soldier he has always been in times of distress. I was alone during the day...unable to communicate with friends back home (no internet), writing sappy poetry, wandering around the city with my camera in an attempt to distract myself from this overwhelming situation. I could not eat and had to force myself to do so. I cried and cried and cried. My eyes were so puffy and red I looked like a bloated stoner the entire week. When we were all together, all we could do was pine for Cosmo. Much of our spare time was spent at Corvinus, checking e-mail for news of the document process...the time difference between here and the States was maddening, making the process slow as cold molasses. The customs vet had kindly offered to keep Cosmo at his office for 8,000 forint a day (forty dollars) until we could obtain the stamp or come up with a plan to send him back to the States, which ate away at our emergency fund. We were all too aware that his job was in jeopardy and he was in effect hiding Cosmo from the authorities for us. During this hellish week, we got photos taken at a photo booth at Batthyany Ter for our monthly transit passes...each photo captured our deeply troubled states of mind and lined up, these photos appeared to depict family of tragic, freshly busted criminals.
Back home, our family and friends were making calls to the U.S. and Hungarian Embassies, researching the situation as best they could, and trying figure out how to get the crucial stamp. My dear sister in law even planned to keep Cosmo with her family in Florida if he needed to go back to the U.S., and, honestly, that was the scenario for which we were preparing ourselves. I hated the idea, but it was better than putting him down for our stupid human lack of awareness.
Finally, just as I thought I could just about deal with the idea of sending Cosmo back and putting him through another difficult journey (we had not been able to see him at all), the dear secretary at Southgate Animal Clinic back in Portland volunteered to drive to Salem to obtain the blessed stamp. Turns out, the state capital was the only place this damn thing could be obtained. She drove down on her day off, asking only for gas money. Good lord. There is a special place in the afterlife for folks like her. She singlehandedly saved our beloved pooch. I don't think I can ever sufficiently repay her for her kindness.
As directed through our desperate e-mails, Sarah got the stamp and faxed it to the customs vet at Ferihegy. Hajni called the following Friday to tell us that she would meet me at the airport to help with the paper work we needed to liberate Cosmo. At this point, all three of us were skeptical and could not allow ourselves to be elated just yet...we had to actually see him before we would believe that he would be joining us.
Hajni sent an airport taxi to pick me up Friday afternoon. Aidan stayed at home with Boone this time. I don't think he could bear the thought of more disappointment. Boone said to me with a stony face, "Call us when you have him."
The whole way out to the airport, I shook. I shook from nerves, from misery, from lack of food. I'm the sort of person who prepares herself for the worst. That way, if things work out for the better, I am pleasantly surprised. Classic pessimism, and an appropriate attitude for living in Hungary.
Everything slowed to a snail's pace for the next three hours and obstacles popped up here and there. I felt like I was in one of those police training courses in which the cardboard criminals suddenly emerge in order to impede any progress. I could not withdraw from the cash machine the money I needed to pay for Cosmo's boarding: this was one of the few times I was thankful for having a credit card.
Hajni, who was to meet me at the cargo area, got lost and had to talk to the shuttle driver for directions. I waited about forty-five minutes for her arrival, and when she did show up, still sick from the flu she had suffered the week before, I wanted to hug her warmly. She was our Hungarian mother.
She moderated for me with the customs workers, who recognized me from the previous week, and appeared to have a lot of sympathy for this clueless American woman. Forms flied (and filed), information was entered, I signed about five documents, all of which made me responsible for any future mishaps. If anythingwas amiss, the gendarmes would be knocking on my door with questions. At one point, one of the worker's said Cosmo could only be released to Boone. Again the credit card saved me, because I flashed it and that was good enough to prove that I was his wife and therefore his representative in this case. Hajni and I then had to cross the parking lot to another large building to sign more documents. They were closed. However, probably at the sight of a kindly older woman and a shell-shocked younger one, the officials processed the paperwork. "Just for you," said the kind young man, in English, with a wink.
Back across the lot we trekked with an armful of documents, all stamped, all signed. The last step was to pay for Cosmo's boarding. I had two credit cards and, of course, the first one did not process. The second one did and I began to feel some release of pressure. Would I see my dog? Some nagging suspicion told me that the wrong dog would be presented to me and that I would have to snap mentally before this was all over.
We made one more trip across the lot. The cargo workers went to fetch Cosmo is his crate. After about fifteen minutes, I heard the loading vehicle pull up with a crate and, to my absolute delight, within the crate was Cosmo, looking utterly confused. I jumped up and down, clapped my hands like an excited child, and ran over to him. He was shaking, terrified, looking at me with his googly eyes as if to say, "WTF!?!"
Hajni, a dog lover herself, said, "Oh, Leslie, he is beautiful," and see cooed to him in her velvety Hungarian voice. Yes, he was beautiful. And is.
I immediately called Boone and Aidan..."I have him!"
"YIPEEE!" cried Aidan.
The long drive back to the flat was serene. I felt as if I had been shot up with Demerol. As we drove along the Danube, I was finally able to fully take in and enjoy the beauty of this city, which had been wasted on my tortured brain for the previous week. What was gray and drab was now sun-kissed and rosy. The river rolled along happily with me, past Parliament, past the pastel edifices of Pest and the hills of Buda. Every now and then I looked back at Cosmo and spoke gently to him. He was no longer shaking, now curled up and snoozing peacefully in the crate. He knew he was home and that he would be with us at last. Always living in the present, my sweet boy dog.
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| Cosmo, in Obuda, ready for another toss |
Certainly, there is a song in this story somewhere, as well as a gripping tale within Cosmo's doggy memory!
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