How I almost didn't interview Virginia from Beagles of Burgundy (and why I had major stress attacks)

It all started, as it often does, with a gap.

When publishing the article about Beagles for the blog last Friday at 6:30 AM, eyes still half-closed, I did my final proofread and then... Realization.

I had forgotten something.

Or rather, someone.

Laboratory Beagles.

These dogs spend their first years in cages contributing to science, and who (if all goes well) eventually leave one day, without knowing what a sofa is, a cat farting, or a human playing Mario Kart.

A whole section. A whole reality. That I had ignored as if it didn't exist. 

Well. Obviously, I didn't like that. Obviously, I felt useless for that. And obviously, I had to fix it.

The email sent one morning without too much thought (and fortunately)

There was an organization I follow on social media: Beagles of Burgundy. As its name suggests, based in Burgundy (in Vézelay to be precise). An organization that works on the re-adaptation of these dogs after their time in the laboratory.

On a whim (because if I had thought about it, I would have chickened out) I wrote an email. A few lines. A quick presentation of Canithermo, an explanation of the ongoing article, an interview request.

And I pressed "send" closing my eyes.

Then I waited.

Pretty much convinced that I wouldn't get a reply. Because associations have better things to do than reply to emails from strangers who want to interview their founders for a blog about canine joint well-being.

I carried on, closing the subject and starting to wonder how I was going to write my article on Laboratory Beagles without saying too many silly things.

And then, Sunday evening. Boom.

I got a reply.

The night before

The appointment was set for 3 PM.

The day before, I read the Beagles of Burgundy website at length, width, crossways, diagonally, and a second time at length just in case I had missed something. I took notes. I built a framework. I listed questions. I thought about the angle, the tone, how to address sensitive subjects without being overly dramatic or naive.

And there, in my notes, almost everywhere: the word "rehabilitation."

Rehabilitation of the laboratory Beagle. Rehabilitation process. Rehabilitation journey.

Except that.

Reading the site (a hundred times) I realized that Virginia Mouseler did not use this term. She preferred "re-adaptation." A distinction that is not trivial: rehabilitation refers to something broken that is repaired, re-adaptation to something that learns, adjusts, discovers.

It's not at all the same thing!

And I had proudly used the word rehabilitation everywhere.

Everywhere.

So I spent a significant amount of time methodically, frantically I would say, crossing out all the "rehabilitations, rehabilitated" from my papers.

The morning of the appointment (stressed, you say?)

That day (today, in fact) I shared a text on Facebook that summarized my general state quite well:

"My butt's clenching. I'm shaking. I've reread my paper 1450 times."

There. That's it.

I had tried napping. Failed. Tried breathing. Failed. Tried soothing teas. Failed (I just had to go to the toilet every three minutes, which isn't REALLY super soothing.)

And then there was another big problem.

On her website and in the articles about her: Virginie. Her first name is spelled Virginie everywhere.

Except that in her email, she had signed Virginia.

VIRGINIA.

Or VIRGINIE.

Which one?

What was I going to call her?

It might be a detail for you, but for me, it means a lot (as the other person would say).

Because getting someone's name wrong five seconds into a conversation is the kind of start you don't forget. And not in a good way. And even worse, putting it in writing in an article that's meant to stay online!!!

(FYI: after asking her, it's Virginia. It's confirmed, we can move on.)

3 PM and the phone panic protocol

I was also 100% convinced that I would call at 3 PM and she wouldn't answer immediately. Because people have lives. I know. I understand. But the next question is existential:

If she doesn't answer, do I call back? Or does she call back?

Because if it's me, after a certain number of attempts, it becomes harassment.

But if we both wait for the other to call back, well, no one ever calls.

And the interview doesn't happen.

And the article doesn't exist.

And the laboratory Beagles are left without their article. And I'm stuck in my nightmare of panic.

What happened next

The interview happened.

Virginia answered. I managed to say her name correctly. I barely stumbled. The word "rehabilitation" didn't slip out once!

And for almost an hour, I listened to someone talk to me about Beagles with incredible clarity, kindness, and precision.

She told me about Fortunato: a Beagle released from the laboratory, operated on for pulmonary stenosis with a human cardiac block, who now takes eight medications a day and still gambols around. She told me about the patience that re-adaptation requires. About the fact that out of 600 adoptions, five did not work out. 

I met someone wonderful, who has dedicated her life, her home, her house to a cause she believes in. 

What I made of it, you'll read in the dedicated article when it comes out! (and yes, we're doing a little advertising! READ MY ARTICLES OKAY!)

For now: thank you Virginia. And thank you to the Beagles who had the patience to wait for a stressed nurse to stop frantically crossing out her papers before interviewing them!