Dog Day Afternoon
Attica! Attica!!
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Now that that's out of my system, a little bit on the dog life in Paris. It seems appropriate to comment on this at the moment, since my homework for my intensive French grammer class is to finish a story about a dog. 30 lines, fun times.
In Paris, as in other large cities (as my many many NYC friends here confirm), the dog of choice is small. Fits-in-a-handbag, queen-of-England-approved kind of small. So you can imagine my excitement when, getting on the Metro this afternoon, I found myself across from a full-sized Golden Retriever!
Now, as a rule, dogs here are extremely well-behaved. Many times you'll be walking along a street and think you're following a stray, who's trotting along the road, running toward shops and around, seemingly by itself. But then its owner, as many as fifteen steps in front of or behind their dog, will say "Viens!" and the dog will immediately go to them. This Golden Retriever was the worst-trained dog I've found in Paris yet. The man with her actually had to hold onto her leash when she wanted to go up. Still, compared to Rosie and Riley, who would be running around and freaking out all over the train, she was almost creepily chill.
The man with the Golden let her have a little reach, but if she got near someone he tried to pull her back. When she decided to sniff me a little, I managed to pet her a little before he pulled her away apologetically. Me and dog-man were on the Metro for a long time, though, and he soon realized that every time his dog did something cute (like sniff the old man with a sandwich or paw dog-man for attention, just like Rosie does!) I would grin like an idiot, he let the Golden have just enough reach to go over to me.
I got to pet her for a whole Metro stop before I had to get off. I hope one day I can move back here and live with a Golden Retriever I can take on the Metro. That sounds pretty awesome.
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Now that that's out of my system, a little bit on the dog life in Paris. It seems appropriate to comment on this at the moment, since my homework for my intensive French grammer class is to finish a story about a dog. 30 lines, fun times.
In Paris, as in other large cities (as my many many NYC friends here confirm), the dog of choice is small. Fits-in-a-handbag, queen-of-England-approved kind of small. So you can imagine my excitement when, getting on the Metro this afternoon, I found myself across from a full-sized Golden Retriever!
Now, as a rule, dogs here are extremely well-behaved. Many times you'll be walking along a street and think you're following a stray, who's trotting along the road, running toward shops and around, seemingly by itself. But then its owner, as many as fifteen steps in front of or behind their dog, will say "Viens!" and the dog will immediately go to them. This Golden Retriever was the worst-trained dog I've found in Paris yet. The man with her actually had to hold onto her leash when she wanted to go up. Still, compared to Rosie and Riley, who would be running around and freaking out all over the train, she was almost creepily chill.
The man with the Golden let her have a little reach, but if she got near someone he tried to pull her back. When she decided to sniff me a little, I managed to pet her a little before he pulled her away apologetically. Me and dog-man were on the Metro for a long time, though, and he soon realized that every time his dog did something cute (like sniff the old man with a sandwich or paw dog-man for attention, just like Rosie does!) I would grin like an idiot, he let the Golden have just enough reach to go over to me.
I got to pet her for a whole Metro stop before I had to get off. I hope one day I can move back here and live with a Golden Retriever I can take on the Metro. That sounds pretty awesome.