Goodbye.

When we told friends that we were coming back to France for an extended stay, usually their first question was 'What are you going to do with your beagles?' The answer started out simply that my mum was going to have them to stay with her. Three weeks before we left she rescinded the invitation. Panic stations. What to do. There was no question that at 18 and almost 16 they couldn't go back to the kennels where they had holidayed for the 8 months when we were last in France.....a stay which had been fraught with myriad 'prepare yourselves emotionally' phone calls, massive vet bills and a cost that almost equated to private school fees. We thought about not going, after all these were the beagles that our life as a couple were so intimately entwined with. We had beagles before we had babies. And we took the beagles to the hospital to meet each respective baby (except for the one born in France) and each time they rolled their eyes and with stoicism moved one step lower down the pack hierarchy. My husband made me a special bespoke lead perfect for pushing the pram and walking the beagles around the neighbourhood. Together, we became part of the local scenery....Wayne at the post office would ask after my beagles by name yet had no idea what my children were called.

Yes, they were old, yet the vet assured us that there was no evident reason that they wouldn't live through the three and a half months that we were going to be away. So, at the eleventh hour, we put an ad in the Saturday paper and received over fifty responses from people who would consider looking after them. The first couple that we met, immediately started kissing them and fondling their ears....alarm bells were ringing....and then they told us how much they would charge. The second couple never returned our call as we had made the fatal mistake of taking all of our children as well as the beagles on that visit. Then one rainy Saturday, my husband drove out to a farm, that had only just escaped the recent bush fires and met an incredibly kind hearted couple who really wanted to look after them.  So we left them there and they were happy, with each other, sniffing and exploring.

Last week, we had the five year old's class rabbit home to spend the weekend with us. I'd joked with the teacher that this would never happen in Hobart as we have 'deux chiens de chasse' or in english, 'two hunting dogs'....who wouldn't have been able to help themselves. On queue the emails and phone calls started. Followed by the hard decisions. As I write this, one of our beagles won't be coming home again and depending on the lab results, the other one may not be either.

Our time in Uzes is almost over. Soon we will be packing up and heading back to Hobart. It has been a very strange feeling, being momentarily suspended between two worlds. My husband and I love it here, however, let's not kid ourselves, we're outsiders, interlopers. We have been living a self indulgent dream. While my French may be competent enough to see me give birth in French, through the rigamarole of buying new shoes for my children (and this is no mean feat even in English) and able to understand the middle aged letch in the cheese van at the market who told me that I should eat that particular cheese, drink red wine and then go to bed with my boyfriend.....I am a long way away from being able to communicate and not sound like an illiterate vegetable. My children love nutella crepes and no school on Wednesdays, yet, deep down, I think they'd rather be back in their comfort zone in Hobart......

Rx