I had a village house in Lourmarin, at the foot of the Luberon Mountains. Okay, I took some liberties with Karen Blixen’s opening sentence of her famous book, “Out of Africa.” My apologies, but like the young Ms. Blixen who moved from Denmark to Kenya, I, a beagle just barely past my first birthday, made a major move from the United States to France. Like Ms. Blixen, I left a piece of my heart in another country and, like Ms. Blixen, my view of life was forever altered. For different reasons, of course. I am confident the indelible impressions that would eventually re-shape Ms Blixen’s views of life did not take form under the table in fancy restaurants. For me, the silver service I routinely received under the privacy of a canopy of white linen—and occasionally above the table on my own chair–set expectations for a lifestyle that would never again be met, once I returned home. On the trail of a scent (in Lourmarin) I am also certain that, of the five senses, it was not Ms. Blixen’s sense of smell that was most affected by her sojourn in that African country. For me, a beagle, a [...]