There was a blond woman in an oversized down jacket and muddy trekking boots with a black dog on the leash approaching the tiny golf club reception I was hanging around at. The girl working there said “Oh, Jessy is coming to visit. You know, xy’s (a local member of the golf club) dog. He lives up at Harry K.’s house with all the other tennis trainers.” The secretary didn’t know the womans name, but it must be xy’s girlfriend, as she was seen walking Jessy regularly. Thus, I was introduced to the woman known by a dog and its owners name.

At that time, I lived and worked in Graz, but had recently met my husband-to-be, a golf professional working in a very remote, but touristy area some 80 km south-east of Graz. So I spent my weekends at this golf club, mainly hanging around at the reception, bored…