There was no denying it anymore. After sweating through more than a few days in sleeveless t.shirts and grumbling at the lack of air-conditioning in the car, it was with profound regret that I accepted the fact that Spring was truly here, blooming profusely along the daffodil-laden boulevards here in Eindhoven. It could only mean one thing - Scarf’s work for the season was over.
How do you break the news to something that has worked so tirelessly under extreme elements to protect and to serve? I decided to cushion the blow with a lovely weekend in the higher-terrained, landlocked country of Luxembourg. Unlike pancake-flat Holland, the Duchy of Luxembourg is quite hilly. And unlike WWII ravaged Holland, those hills often serve as foundations for centuries-old castles, fortifications and secret tunnels (known there as ‘casemates’). As I struggled with the tri-lingual barriers in this small country (about 20 x 40 miles in size), Scarf dove into the task at hand as we hiked and crawled our way through some of these medieval ruins. After taking the obligatory photos of S&H inside various turrets and atop cannons, we decided Scarf’s weekend would not be complete without a visit to the capital, Luxembourg City. Straddling gorges and two rivers, Luxembourg City winds its way around its own set of forts, some dramatically dropping into narrow valleys. After crossing a 200 foot tall stone bridge that connects the new city to the old, we took an elevator down through the inside of the cliff face to a tunnel that lead us out to the bottom of the gorge below. As I huffed and puffed up and down the steep slope of the valley park, Scarf began serving more as a sweat rag than a neck warmer. I think we both knew that the time had come.
Later, back at the hotel, and without warning, Scarf threw a spectacular tantrum, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since SpongeBob demanded kissy-kissy on his boo-boo. Trying to reason with a winter accessory is like trying to converse with a foot-stool. It was futile. Scarf was clearly overcome and, at last, he/she/it let out an agonizing wail and collapsed onto the floor motionless. No pulse, no dilating pupils, no fog on the looking glass, no nothing.
I decided to work through my own grief by writing its/his/her obituary. Luckily I found this handy fill-in-the-blank form on the Times Union obituary resource section.
“Scarf lost its/his/her courageous battle against (dire illness) on (date), surrounded by its/his/her loving family. Scarf was an avid (sports team) fan. Its/her/his hobbies included (list 3 to 4 hobbies) - travelling, hiking, standing in the cold, shoveling the driveway, and waiting in the car. With diligence and unending loyalty, Scarf fought against the elements, sometimes without complaint. Scarf was the devoted accessory of Elise. Also survived by a host of relatives and friends. By Scarf’s request, there will be no funeral or calling hours. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to a charity of one’s choice”….
“Scarf lost its/his/her courageous battle against (dire illness) on (date), surrounded by its/his/her loving family. Scarf was an avid (sports team) fan. Its/her/his hobbies included (list 3 to 4 hobbies) - travelling, hiking, standing in the cold, shoveling the driveway, and waiting in the car. With diligence and unending loyalty, Scarf fought against the elements, sometimes without complaint. Scarf was the devoted accessory of Elise. Also survived by a host of relatives and friends. By Scarf’s request, there will be no funeral or calling hours. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to a charity of one’s choice”….
It was this last sentence that broke the camel’s back. Scarf made a miraculous recovery. In a complete reversal, it/he/she begged for ‘a little more time’. As an act of pity, I promised to take it/him/she to Australia with us in August – winter for the southern hemisphere. It was a reconciliation of sorts, and so, for now, we’re good.
