Thomas Pletzinger - Funeral for a Dog

the lake awakens

Outside on the water a single Jet Ski, a wasp lands on the kitchen table, finds nothing, and flies away again. On the radio there’s talk of rainfall in central Switzerland, but on Lago di Lugano the sun is shining as it has been for days. The leaves of the sycamore rustle, then the bells toll in Osteno, and seconds later on the opposite shore in Cima or San Mamete (in the distance the clocks run differently). I finish the dishwashing and fill the cups with milk and coffee. Lua is going to be buried today. I’ll leave Svensson and the dog alone, in the Hotel Lido Seegarten I’ll pick up my baggage, toward evening I’ll be in Hamburg. I hear Kiki and Bella in their bedroom, their footsteps on the stairs, then mother and daughter are standing in the doorway, Bella on Kiki’s hip. It’s not so bad, she says, as I look at her bandaged finger. Kiki takes a sip of her coffee and nods when I ask about the end of the story.

Interview (the whole story)

KIKI: You won’t write about this, right?

MANDELKERN: No.

K: Good. When I got off the train early in the morning at the Lugano train station, Svensson was standing on the platform with a stuffed animal, the Euromaus. He seemed tired, but somehow cheerful, he said he was happy. Tuuli was waiting outside in the parking lot, the Fiat was much too small for three adults, a child, and a dog. I had to squeeze in between the child safety seat and bags, stupid Italian cars! Tuuli greeted me, reservedly but not impolitely. We drove down the mountain to the lake, along the lakeside promenade and then beyond Castagnola up the serpentine roads to Monte Brè. Samy and Lua were sleeping like stones, the rest of us admired the sun and the cypresses, the white gates of the villas, the shimmering lake. The air felt clean, crisp, like it does after a storm. What really happened that night in the hotel room at the Europa-Park in Rust, why the two of them decided to eat cotton candy and keep Felix waiting with his surprise, is between them, you see? They don’t know themselves, I guess. Tuuli and Svensson can’t agree on the reason for the delay. Svensson says that on the long drive Tuuli was anxious to take a break so they could talk in peace, and Tuuli claims that Svensson was anxious to ride the carousel, which seems reasonable. Both blame the other, probably they’re both right and wrong. In any case I was lying in the night train to Lugano and couldn’t sleep. To make a long story short: what was said or straightened out or done that night is at least the reason the blue Fiat arrived twelve hours late in Lugano, early in the morning on August 7. We then drove through this sixties-style residential area above Castagnola, when Tuuli suddenly said into the lake view that she couldn’t reach Felix, not on his cell phone, not in the house either. He must be worried, she said. Svensson laughed, Felix Blaumeiser never worries! When we arrived at the road’s highest point, we could see to the end of the lake for the first time. We were like birds, Daniel! On the way down to the shore, through the tunnels, Tuuli then drove much too fast. All of a sudden there was a disconcertingly cheerful tension in the air, a weird lightheartedness. We crossed the Italian border without being stopped, the border guards winked at Tuuli and waved. Buon giorno la bionda! For the narrow village roads and the sharp curves the Fiat was perfect, Svensson rolled down the window and Tuuli honked like an Italian. We drove past the small ports, Albogasio and San Mamete, Castello above us on the mountain. At the Stella D’Italia we noticed a runover cat, right by the hospital, Croce Rossa Italiana, just before the Chinese restaurant. Svensson told jokes, and the closer we came to the end of the lake, the louder Tuuli laughed, you could tell they were hoping to be happy. I let myself be carried away by all this, everything struck me as more genuine than in the travel brochures, the mountains, the lake, the old villages. Then Tuuli stopped suddenly at a large yellow villa, Lua and Samy woke up. Svensson turned around and grinned at me. I remember perfectly the crunch of the tires on the white gravel, I was surprised by the size of the house. The billowing curtains in the open windows! Lua jumped out of the car and immediately ran down to the water. The terrace doors stood open, the car doors too, oleander in the terra-cotta pots along the path, red and white. On the white pebbles there was a colorful trail of confetti leading from the house down to the shore. I was completely overwhelmed by so much storybook Europe, Lua’s barking by the water sounded like he was barking into a bucket, hollow and artificial. Holding Samy, Tuuli walked across the veranda and followed Lua to the water. She sang Felix’s name, her voice like dripping water. When there was no reply to this singing, her shouting for Svensson finally came loudly and clearly. I entered the house after Svensson through the terrace door, Tuuli was following the confetti trail to the water, half walking, half running. On the set table, among confetti, streamers, and burned-down candles, there was a piece of paper. Next to it two party hats. The table completely bedecked with expensive dishes and cut glass along with a decoration kit from the supermarket, corny, Daniel, you wouldn’t believe it. No rings, Felix’s penchant for symbolism didn’t extend to that. It was as if the marriage proposal were supposed to be made ironically, Felix must have been absolutely confident. Almost as if he found these industrially manufactured and plastic-wrapped gestures more appropriate than a serious one. Almost as if a few party hats would be enough to turn things to good account. Felix wanted merely to sketch this big step. So between expensive dishes and cheap decorations there was a note.

M: From Blaumeiser?

K: His handwriting wasn’t proficient, blue ballpoint-pen ink on thin, lined paper. I didn’t read the note, but Svensson’s fingers on my back trembled as he read. The air smelled of candle wax and standing lake water, I remember that perfectly, deck chairs and cigarettes. That we didn’t put on or even touch the party hats on the kitchen table, one blue, the other pink. An absolute silence despite the occasional cars and birds. Then: Tuuli’s abrupt and brief scream, but that’s not the right word, she howled. A horrible sound! Svensson and I ran after the scream and Lua’s barking, following the confetti trail, all over the garden furniture streamers and candles and lamps along the path. Even though the sun was shining, just like right now, Daniel, just like today.

Milk?

At this moment Samy is standing in the room and rubbing his eyes. Kiki and I didn’t hear his footsteps. She interrupts her story, gets up and bends down to the boy. Milk? she asks, and Samy nods. Kiki puts a glass on the table, she gets crayons and paper, she sits the boy on my knee and says

Lua is dead,

but he wasn’t sad and fell asleep peacefully, because everyone was with him. The boy takes a sip of his milk. Did he want to make the dog a farewell gift? She heard he could already draw, says Kiki, and Samy nods absently (so early in the morning he can’t understand death). Kiki gets up.

Interview (main informant Kiki Kaufman)

KIKI: Felix Blaumeiser was lying next to Macumba on his belly in the shallow water, his left leg twisted, his shoelaces caught in the the oarlock, navy blue Converse like two pigeons. On the floor of the boat bottles were banging together, Samy was screaming, little children always cry with their mothers. Tuuli and Svensson were kneeling on the slippery concrete of the boat ramp, she was holding Felix’s head, and he was feeling around frantically on Felix with his fingers, the learned procedures couldn’t bring Felix back. Svensson tried again and again to detach his shoelaces from the boat. Pale streamers were wrapped around Felix’s neck, he was wearing a sodden party hat with an elastic band and his white polo shirt had turned pink and yellow and blue, the bottles were banging and rattling and clinking, two bottles of Veuve Clicquot and one wine bottle, all empty. Above Felix’s right eye was a bump, the water had already washed off or diluted the blood. The bluish shards of a bottle of Bombay Sapphire were shimmering in the water.