From Poland . . .

       Ed Henry and 'Ariel' in Siedlec, Poland, May 2013

     This story is about dogs and I wrote it especially for Doug Ross, who plays mandolin for Dry Mill Road Bluegrass (Winchester, Virginia). I met Doug a couple of years ago. He's a quiet and reserved guy until you get him on the subject of Beagles. I know and understand Doug. His love of dogs tells me everything I need to know about him. My mother once said that when the Henry Family gathered there were always dogs around, and kids playing with dogs. All the old family pictures prove it. She's right. I remember every dog that seemed to be a part of our growing-up. We always had mutts. No show dogs here. The mixed-breeds always made the better family pet. We recently made a trip to Poland to visit with Connie's relatives in a little village (Siedlec) outside of Krakow. I posted a picture of me and their dog on Facebook and made a comment that Doug Ross responded to: he said, "Yeah, but I'll bet she liked you, anyway."  She did, Doug, but now here's the whole story of how I met up with "Ariel."
       Adam and Irena Konieczny, Connie's cousins, met us at Krakow (John Paul II International) Airport and we headed out of the Krakow area west to Siedlec. The ride is magnificent. A progression from major highways down to smaller and smaller country roads. It's not unusual to have to stop for tractors or farm wagons being hauled by horses. It's rolling countryside bordered with hills. Not unlike Virginia's Shenandoah Valley. It's May and the depth of the color green is cut every once in a while with strips of bright yellow that goes for miles. The bright yellow is some kind of plant that produces canola oil. It's really something to see from up in the air, especially this time of the year when you're flying over France, Germany, or Poland. I forget the name of the plant. As we head toward the village I see more fields of it, but now I can experience it from ground level. The towns get smaller as we near Siedlec. We start climbing upward on beat-up asphalt country roads. People wave to us for no particular reason except to acknowledge us. We reach Adam's house and further up the hill I notice a huge forest of hardwoods. We're greeted by a skittish dog as we haul in our luggage and make a lot of noise trying to settle ourselves after such an exhausting flight. "That's  Ariel," says Irena as she shows us to our room on the second floor. It's a beautiful house. I notice how it's sturdily built to protect it against Poland's harsh winters. I try to pet Ariel, but she runs from me and hides under a table. She's a pretty dog - some kind of mix of hunting dog - not big and goofy, and not small, either. She looks like a runner. I decided that "skittish" or not, me and the dog were going to be fast friends by the time the trip was over.
      That evening we sat down to a huge traditional Polish dinner. Irena is a marvelous cook, which I already knew from previous trips to visit them. Ariel remained hidden and away from the table and when I tried to reach out to her she would run to another part of the house. After dinner, we all went for a walk up the hill to get some exercise. Of course it was more for Ariel's benefit than ours. We got to the edge of the forest and turned around. In the evening we fell into bed and slept well, knowing that it would take us a day or two to recuperate through the jet-lag. Morning broke the next day. A bit cloudy and warm, but the weather for our vacation looked promising. We were all out of bed by 8:00 am. At breakfast, Ariel flopped herself down at my feet underneath the breakfast table. I reached down and scratched her head. Connie loves to walk. I love to explore. I don't care if it's Asia or Poland. I like to experience everything at the neighborhood level. We decided to go for a walk and I asked Adam if it was OK to take Ariel with us. He agreed. I stepped toward Ariel's leash hanging by the front door. Ariel rushed up behind me with tail wagging, and that look - the one dog's get when they know they're going to be part of the excursion. As I snapped the hook on the leash, Ariel looked at me as if to say, "This guy's Ok. He's going to be my new friend!" Our second night in Siedlec, Ariel started following me up to the second floor every time I had to go to our room to get something out of our suitcases. Adam and Irena commented on it and laughed about it. I also noticed on our first night that Ariel slept in their room when they went to bed. Adam and Irena (both retired) were also late-risers, which is pretty difficult to be when you're living in the countryside.
      On the third morning we were there, I had to get up at 0400 to make a head call. Not only that, but I noticed that the birds started singing at about the same time. It sounded like a bunch of Virginia mocking birds. I opened our bedroom door in the dark and stumbled over a large form on the floor. I  stepped on a bony leg and then heard a yelp. Ariel was in front of our door. She followed me to the bathroom and then followed me back to the bedroom door.  It was pitch-dark. The sun hadn't even come up yet. I went back to bed, but then heard scratching at the door. "Alright," I thought to myself, "Let's go for an early pre-dawn Polish adventure!"
      Trying to remember the layout of the house, the location of the leash and the house-key, and trying to calm down Ariel's excitement, I made it out of the house and into the road. The small settlement seemed deserted but in the blue of the dawn I could see lights coming on in the houses nearby. Ariel was in her element and happy as she pulled on the leash. I established right away who was in charge of this venture. We stopped a few times to view some vegetable gardens. One of the locals, already out and about and firing up a tiller greeted me in Polish and I tried to say to him I was American, and had no idea how to respond to him. He laughed and talked to Ariel instead. I would learn soon enough that everyone on the road knew Ariel, just as Adam and Irena knew all the dogs on the road and who the dogs belonged to. We progressed up the hill. It was obvious Ariel wanted to go into the forest. I took her in just a hundred feet or so and then turned around. For me it was uncharted territory. I didn't know if it was private property or not. There were signs, but I didn't read Polish. I didn't want to be an Ugly American.
      After that adventure, Ariel's attachment to her "new friend" got worse. It became constant. Up the stairs, down the stairs, sitting in a room, or just walking around the well-fenced yard outside. First it was two walks a day with Ed, or Ed and Connie, and then three walks a day. The 0400 wake-up walk in the pre-dawn got to be a habit that I didn't think Adam and Irena would much appreciate after the Americans left Siedlec. Every day also, we went further into the woods after I found out it was public land. Ariel loved it. Then one day we took a few steps and a big deer leaped up in front of us and Ariel got the shock of her doggie existence. She almost tore off her collar and almost broke the leash. I would have given anything to let her go and chase this magnificent animal. It looked like a big doe. The deer flew through the ferns and hardwoods and was gone.  Then on Day Four, while I had our bedroom door opened and I was digging into my suit-case for something, Ariel came running in and took a big leap up on our bed. Connie and I started laughing. Ariel had that look of triumph on her face. She had won, and she knew it. Connie and I had a serious discussion - like when you're trying to deal with a child and a serious issue. We laughed a lot about it. The vacation was one of our best-ever. All we could do is laugh about it. The hospitality of our hosts and the good people in Siedlec, and how much we were welcomed by Connie's relatives Adam and Irena. Mostly, we laughed about how simply the love and unquestioning loyalty of a dog can make the difference between having a good vacation or an absolutely GREAT vacation. That's the story, Doug, I know you care about mutts as much as I do.