Sunday, February 12, 2006

Lethal Material

After nearly 6 months in Paris plus numerous months in the states, several perfume spritzes (her favorite), repeated washings of the cover, and even attempted washing of the actual bed itself, it was time to admit that Lucy's bed could be considered a toxic substance in some countries.

The smell, when it was "fluffed" to her specifications, was enough to bring tears to your eyes. It was time to say bye-bye to the bed.

I looked around, and France did not disappoint, as its dog beds run just about as expensive as human beds. Unless, of course, your dog is tiny and dainty and cute, as many Parisian dogs are. Lucy is cute, but no one would ever say she is tiny or dainty.

An IKEA trip had been planned with Flare and Kylie, so I did a bit of planning and looked for large dog beds on their website. I was in luck! They had one that was not only large, it was actually larger than hers is now, with a snazzy black and white spotted cover. Plus, at 40 euros, it was a price I could swallow.

We headed out there, meeting at the fountains at St. Michel for our IKEA date. We bought tickets to head all the way out to the store, which is near Charles de Gaulle airport. We rode the train, then a bus, and finally walked through the doors. Anyone who's been to IKEA knows this is not usually a quick trip. We walked and looked for a good 3 hours before having lunch (Meatballs! Yay!) and then headed back out to the store to actually pick up the items we wanted.

I found the dog bed section, found the card with the right price, but the Lucy-sized bed was nowhere in sight. They had the little version, and a different bed that never would have fit, and that was it.

I sought a person to help, but the only one I could find was a maintenance man. He dutifully looked, but couldn't help me. However, he used his walkie-talkie to call someone who could.

She came over to help us and immediately got sidetracked by a woman wearing calf-high boots with 4-inch spike heels, a lacy pink and purple camisole and a fake fur jacket who had some incredibly pressing questions she had to ask about the cat bed she was buying. We waited, trying to be patient, until the IKEA person we had called for could help us.

"I want to buy this dog bed. (Pointing to the one hanging on the wall.) I can't find them here. Do you know where they are?"

"I don't know. Aren't they here?"

"No. Do you see them? I can't find them. That's why I called you."

"Oh. Huh. I'll check."

She headed to the nearest computer, found out the information, and came back.

"We have 7 in stock."

"Where are they?"

"I don't know."

"Can I have that one? (indicating the one hanging on the wall.)"

"No. That is the sample. There are seven. I don't know where they are. You can look."

She shot a parting "Sorry" over her shoulder as she walked away.


So, we searched. High and low and in between--everywhere that we could think of, but there were no dog beds. As a last resort, I picked up a foam mattress sized for a crib that had a cloth cover (washable). The top was like an egg crate, and it felt pretty comfy to met when I laid it down on the concrete floor and "test slept" it for Lucy. It was only 13 euros, so I figured it would do until we could find something else.

I brought it home, and Dr. B put it in Miss Lucy's bed frame (AKA the crate).

She walked onto the new bed. Turned around, and began to scratch. Trying and trying, desperately trying, to fluff the slab of foam into a cozy nest.

It didn't work.

So, Dr. B and I spent most of today unstuffing her old bed (which I'm pretty sure we deserve a medal for), washing the liner and cover in really, really hot water with lots of bleach, and ripping the foam mattress into 40 billion little tiny pieces. We will stuff the new bed with the fresh foam and hope she likes it.

Yep. That's us. Completely and utterly puppy-whipped.

PS. Her other blankets and toys went into the wash as well, and unfortunately it appears that her favorite toy, "Piggy" (the pig) is now on her last legs (of which she has a total of two.) She is now a weird puce color with purple ears and nose, and her stitching is starting to unravel.



At 12:35 PM, February 12, 2006, Blogger Katia said...

OH yes, puppy whipped is truly the right phrase for that. hehe. Although we would do the same for symphony so I can't laugh ;)

At 5:05 AM, February 13, 2006, Blogger Sammy said...

Oh IKEA, just the mention of the wrod makes me drool with envy.

I've gotta make a trip to one soon - trouble is that it's a three hour drive from where I live.


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