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Frau Ehrlich slapped the buzzing alarm clock with one hand and fumbled for her eyeglasses on the nightstand with the other. She was accustomed to rising early, but only the two dozen apple cakes she had promised to bake for the village wine festival were justification for getting out of a warm feather bed at 5 a.m. She flexed her fingers and rubbed her hands, which were still sore from peeling, coring and slicing a bushel of apples the night before.

She dressed quickly and tiptoed past her grandson's room. The smell of apple cakes baking would wake him soon enough. She was glad to have him home and knew that he disliked boarding school even if he avoided the topic. She paused at the window on the stairwell and watched the taillights of her daughter Katja's car disappearing down the driveway and out into the fog. She shook her head. Frau Ehrlich had given up trying to convince her daughter that life in the corporate world was not worth commuting three hours a day on crowded autobahns. Katja had a mind of her own, which was one reason she chose to live in the former guest cottage. She used her background in finance to help keep the family vineyard's books in order, but otherwise showed little interest in wine culture or village life.

Frau Ehrlich continued down the stairs and switched on the kitchen light. She stretched and yawned broadly, grateful that embers still glowed in the hearth. "Schatzi" the wirehaired Dachshund was stretched out on the hearth rug in her usual spot and she did not stir. She walked carefully past as the old dog was easily surprised due to her worsening deafness. Frau Ehrlich put coffee beans into the electric grinder and snapped the lid shut - that would wake the old girl, Schatzi hated the grinder almost as much as she despised the vacuum cleaner. As the beans ground, the dog still did not move and Frau Ehrlich stared at her more intently and with growing concern.

She walked over to the dog and watched for a sign of breathing or a twitch. Nothing. She bent down stiffly and laid her hand on Schatzi's chest. It was cold and hard. As the dog's name meant, she had been a treasure for sixteen years, and tears welled up in Frau Ehrlich's eyes.

Schatzi had never been "her" dog, but she was part of her late husband Heinrich's legacy and family lore. Heinrich, who died six months before her grandson Christian's birth, had won the Dachshund puppy in a shooting contest. The dog had made it clear that she was a man's dog and from the time Christian was old enough to toddle, Schatzi had laid claim to him as her new "Herrchen." Frau Ehrlich had been ready to banish both husband and puppy to the barn after Shatzi chewed the fringe off one end of the Persian rug in the dining room - in fact, the ruined end was still cleverly hidden under the china cabinet.

"Oh, Schatzi," Frau Ehrlich said softly, "and of all days, too."