French Dogs

 French dogs are different. French dogs and their owners are different to those found in Australia. 

In Australia, it’s normal behaviour, that when you see a dog in the street with their owner, you will say hello, first to the dog, and then to the owner. In the best-case scenario , the dog will look at you, when its tail, and if you’re really lucky, it will come up to you for a pat. The owner will then make his excuses, you might ask the dogs name, and then the owners name just to be nice. After this, you might say something like, “nice dog, my sister had one, just like it…”, after which you might have a very short conversation about dogs.

This is my experience.

In France, the experience is completely different. 

In France, you try to smile at the dog, it ignores you. The owners try to ignore you. When you give the dog a little wave, or say hello, the owner will normally give you a scowl and take the dog on a short lead. You give up in despair. 

Occasionally, you might meet a semi-friendly owner who won’t mind you fawning over their dog, but as a rule, the dog, and the owner, will systematically ignore you. You may get a half smile if you speak to them in French.

So here I was, being universally blanked by the animals I adore, thinking that a dog will never say hello to be again. 

Until we hit Montmartre. 

Of the amazing activities we've done over the last week here on this amazing Gunnas International tour, our morning walking the streets of Montmartre with our guide Sonja has been one of my favourites to date.  

Montmartre, home of the Moulin Rouge, of seedy artists dwellings, cheap grog and cheaper floosies. Sonja had stories about all of these places. We slowly made our way up the hills, looking down laneways and into shops and cafes. We saw Amelie's cafe, which had me in paroxyms of joy.

So how do you make me even happier. Get me a friendly dog. 

 

It seems that this is a universal sentiment with middle aged women, out of their comfort zones and away from their pets.

Then we met Ava.

Meet Ava. 

Photo courtesy of Lynda Cartwright Instagram

Ava, and her owner, were Australian friendly. 

Ava, in her stripey pyjamas, had fifteen middle-aged women fawning over her. She lapped up every minute of the attention. 

I explained to her owner the situation to the strangely excited women. We had all be away for a while. We were all missing our pets. 

Sonja, looked on with bemused frustration. We were already running a little late for our lunch reservation. 

For all the time we had in Montmartre, it seems a little Silky Terrier puppy in a pair of stripy pyjamas was the star of the day. 

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