Sven’s birthday begins at seven o’clock in the morning with the damp breath of a Labrador right in his face. “Happy birthday!” says Anni. “Thanks,” mumbles Sven, wiping his nose with the duvet. “Was that you or Rüdiger?” Rüdiger is sitting on Sven’s chest, wagging his tail excitedly and chewing on the sleeve of his pyjamas. He’s four months old, honey-coloured, velvety soft and already has the self-confidence of a harbour master. “Isn’t he sweet?” asks Anni for the hundredth time.
They’ve been looking after Rüdiger for two weeks, because Annie’s best friend is away on business. That was three days ago. By now, sweet little Rüdiger takes up about as much space as a full-grown polar bear – especially emotionally. He sleeps across the room, eats everything and always moves diagonally.
Since they came on board yesterday, he’s managed to gnaw through a fender, two tea towels have gone missing, and Sven’s left boat shoe has been transformed into something that now looks like modern art made of rubber.
The morning of my birthday
Sven is in high spirits: “Today we’re heading out, dropping anchor somewhere, drinking champagne and celebrating my birthday. Just the two of us.” Anni kisses him. “All by ourselves. Just the three of us,” she corrects him. Half an hour later, the breakfast table is set up in the cockpit. Anni has prepared bread rolls, scrambled eggs and a small candle. “You’ll get your present once we’re out at sea and have dropped anchor,” explains Anni. Sven nods.
Rüdiger sits motionless beside him, devouring the scrambled eggs with his eyes. “No!” says Sven. Rüdiger raises a paw. “He’s manipulating you,” says Anni. “Not me!” protests Sven. Ten seconds later, he’s feeding him some egg.
Rüdiger’s arrival at the harbour does not go unnoticed. Wochenändi and her husband Schnupsi come over, and with her come Maren, a guest moored on the neighbouring boat, Uwe from the petrol station, and a man whom nobody knows but who clearly likes Labradors and is taking photos of Rüdiger. Within two minutes, seven adults are sitting in the cockpit of the ‘Späte Liebe’, talking to Rüdiger in a tone of voice usually reserved for babies and very young goats: ‘You’re such a sweetie!’ – “Who’s got such soft ears?” – “Look at the way he’s looking!”
“We were actually planning to set off straight away,” says Sven. “I’ve got today –” Wochenändi cuts him off: “Great, so are we! With your cute Perro!” Sven gives a wry smile. “We wanted to go on our own.” But the Wochenändi doesn’t care. She coos: “Of course, we’re taking our own boat.”
“But where to?” asks Sven. Die Wochenändi: “Well, wherever you’re off to. Right, you little Rüdiger? Pequeñín adorable!” Anni places her hand on Sven’s knee. It’s the marital gesture that means: don’t say anything now that could divide the whole harbour forever.
Suddenly, Lenni, the walking encyclopaedia, appears. The boy is wearing a functional vest with eight pockets and stops on the jetty as if he’d been called in to carry out a technical assessment. “Labrador,” he says. “Spot on!” says Sven. “By the way, today I’ve…” Lenni leans down: “Working line or show line?”
“Skincare range,” says Anni, and everyone laughs. Only Lenni isn’t laughing. Lenni never laughs. Now he’s coming on board. “Labradors need clear rules,” he explains in a stern voice. “Consistency. Structure. Mental stimulation. Otherwise they’ll walk all over you,” says Lenni. “My sister-in-law used to have a Golden Retriever.”
“That’s practically the same thing, of course,” says Sven. “A completely different breed,” says Lenni sternly, “but a similar coat colour.”
The first trip out with the dog
At eleven o’clock, the ‘Späte Liebe’, with Lenni on board, sets sail. Behind it come the ‘Wochenändi’ and the ‘Schnupsi’, followed by Maren and Uwe, as well as a small cabin cruiser with the unknown man who is still taking photos of Rüdiger. Rüdiger is sitting up front on his cosy cushion, his ears in the wind, and looks like the youngest admiral on Lake Müritz. Every oncoming boat waves. A woman calls out: “He’s so cute!” Sven waves back. “She means Rüdiger,” says Anni.
As they drop anchor, the other boats moor alongside the ‘Späte Liebe’. Then everyone comes on board. Schnupsi and the Wochenändis bring potato salad and sausages, Maren a bowl of strawberries, and Uwe two crates of beer. Incidentally, the unknown man’s name is Holger and he runs a dog training school, though he only reveals this after Lenni has spent 20 minutes explaining to him how to train a Labrador.
“You have to exude calm,” says Lenni, pointing at Rüdiger with his index finger outstretched. “The dog can sense any uncertainty.” Rüdiger leaps up, snaps at Lenni’s sleeve and pulls. Lenni pulls back. Rüdiger pulls harder. Everyone laughs. Not Lenni. The sleeve gives way; Rüdiger shoots backwards into the water bowl and spills two litres of drinking water all over the cockpit floor. Sven breathes audibly.
Rüdiger is being stroked, fed and photographed from all sides. He’s given a piece of sausage by Schnupsi, some cheese by Wochenändi, and some strawberries; and five minutes later, he vomits all over Lennie’s boat shoe. Sven breathes a sigh of relief. After all, there are only a good ten days left.
Surprise party on board
Suddenly, everyone pulls garlands and balloons out of their bags, and in an instant the cockpit is full of food, wet feet and good cheer. “Of course we know it’s your birthday,” says Uwe, “we’re not stupid, after all.” And just as Sven is thinking that everything’s actually quite alright as it is, Rüdiger jumps into the water from the stern of the ‘Späte Liebe’.
Everyone gasps. But the little boy paddles enthusiastically round in circles, straight towards a pair of barbecue tongs floating in the water – which the weekend visitor had accidentally dropped in – retrieves them and brings them back.
Pulling together, they lift the dog back on board. He shakes himself off enthusiastically and gets everyone and everything wet all over again. Sven breathes a sigh of relief. In the evening, the boats lie close together. Music echoes across the water; someone strikes up a song. Everyone sings along. Finally, the sun sets over the Müritz in a glow of red and gold.
Then something occurs to Anni. “You’re still going to get your present!” she says to Sven, and he nods expectantly, just like everyone else, and shortly afterwards is delighted to receive a wonderful, waterproof watch – the one he’d secretly been hoping for. “I actually thought Rüdiger was my present,” Sven says quietly to Anni later, whilst the Labrador sleeps peacefully on his lap.
“Oh, come on!” laughs Anni, raising her champagne glass. “Rüdiger’s going to be my present!” Sven looks puzzled. “Well, it’s my birthday next week too. Here’s to you, my darling!”