It's a dog's life

June 26, 2001
Paris, France
"It's a dog's life"

Let's get into to it, you and I. Don't read any further if you're squeamish. If you're not, then let's talk about dogs. First off, I love 'em. I used to be afraid of them when I was younger, probably because one day when I was five years old the neighbors' German Shepard hurdled our fence and cornered me behind our fig tree. Thank God my mom was watching from the kitchen. She ran outside brandishing a broom and chased the beast away. I can remember afterwards walking to school with my knees knocking as I kept my eye on all the barking dobermans and German Shephards along my route, and I prayed the snarling beasts wouldn't jump their seemingly flimsy fences.

But later I grew to love dogs. I loved all my friends Labradors and Golden Retrievers and Beagles, and I especially love our own little daschund, Francis. She's gettin' pretty well on in doggie years now, but she's still pretty good at one thing, and that's leaving her calling card. That's right, her master bathroom is a patch of green grass in our backyard, and if you ever play a game of catch or pickle in my backyard I can guarantee you a 40% chance of stepping in a fresh deposit of daschund doggie doo. That's not appealing odds, and I can understand if you dont ever want to play catch at my house. I can't tell you all the hours I've worked away at the tread of my sneakers with a knife, digging like an archaeologist, and afterwards I just give up and blast the damn dirty shoes with the hose.

But, constant reader, I'm here to tell you that there are worse doggie-doo minefields then my backyard, and one of them is Paris. As you may know, the french love their chiens. They walk them everywhere. They take them to restaurants and on board trains. They treat them better than they treat tourists. You may have noticed that a new social ethic has crept into the city ordnances of many American towns, namely "thou shalt clean up after your dog with doggy wipes." Well, the French detest Americans, and they also detest any law that would stop them from allowing their prized pooches to crap all over a public street.

If you go to Paris, watch your step. It is a romantic city, but I'm sure nothing would sour your romantic mood more then sitting down on the edge of the Seine, digging away at your sneakers with a french fork. And if you need a hose, I don't think they would let your borrow one.