After the Ballet

I was imprisoned for 4 and a half hours. I'm glad Mom felt so guilty that she didn't go to her favorite restaurant after the ballet, but instead came home and released me. I had to pee so bad I couldn't wait to go outside - I used the pee pads instead. After Mom fed me dinner, we took a walk to the grassy Esplanade a block away and I got to do a lot of sniffing. We met a very friendly dog from Brazil - a very curly Bichon Frise named Mops. The name didn't mean anything to Mom and me, but Mops' mom said it was the name of Marie Antoinette's dog. Mops was very friendly and gave me the petit bonjour, but I have a hard time warming up to these French dogs. Even the French/Brazilian ones. Mom was interested in talking to Mops' mom because she had done what my mom had done, except for a longer time. She said she always wanted to try living in Paris, so when she retired from her job in Brazil, she moved to Paris for a year. Mom told her that she had wanted to do the same, but decided to try it for three months first to see how she liked it. We wished them a "bonne soiree" and went on our way, but I think we're on each other's walking route. Mom would like to talk to her again.

After we left Mops and her mom, we stopped at a brasserie so Mom could have a beer and the waiter brought out a bowl of water for me and put it on the chair beside me. Forget everything you've ever heard about snobby French waiters - they may snob people, but they all like dogs.

I'm starting to get used to all the noises of the city and I'm even getting pretty agile when it comes to dodging feet. Mom used to try to guide me with the leash, but I'm becoming accustomed to avoid all the traffic on my own. There are not only feet to avoid, but scooters, cars, motorcycles, garbage cans, cigarette butts, and I have to leap over the water streaming down the gutters. In fact, I'm becoming so nimble, I may join the ballet, myself!

Did I tell you that Mom bought a package of baby-wipes to clean my feet when we get home from a walk? She's never been a germ-0-phobe, but my feet get pretty nasty on those Paris sidewalks. I don't like having my feet cleaned, but she says I can't sleep with her unless I do, and she doesn't want me cleaning them myself. Some things a dog just has to give in to.

Auntie Krysta is coming to the rescue and sending attachments for uploading photos. It won't be long now.

Thank you, Thank you very much!

I want to thank my dogster pals for the supportive comments on my blog. It really stinks that I have to stay in my crate while Mom samples the cultural side of Paris. She didn't want me to take that to the literal extreme that Coco and Puffy suggested, however. I'm afraid if I followed their advice I'd have to have a BATH!

As to Teddy and Casey's observation about the dogs missing from the royal wedding, they probably had to stay in their royal crates. I call for equal rights for dogs!!

Home Alone

Today I didn't get out much. Mom decided that she wanted to watch the royal wedding, as long as she was over here in pretty much the same time zone. I tried to take a nap, but I was continuously interrupted with Mom's running commentary on what the invited guests (all 1900 of them) were wearing, especially the ladies' hats. The t.v. commentator said that hats were not obligatory, but were traditional and everyone was wearing one except - guess who? The wife of the Prime Minister! Will questions be asked about the reason for not wearing a hat? Will it become a political issue? A crisis of state? Only humans would even care. Mom said not to write in my blog what she said about the princesses Eugenie and Beatrice (you know, Fergie's daughters) who were wearing the most bizarre hats imaginable. Let's just say that they stood out from the crowd and not in a good way.

Mom has been leaving me in my crate for longer periods of time each day while she goes out without me. The first time she just went down to the corner for a take-out crepe for lunch, but I didn't know if she was going to come back. I barked and barked the entire time she was gone (7 minutes) and not just little woofs, but loud, desperate, panicky barks. When she did come back and let me out, I went crazy with joy! I raced around the apartment, through all the rooms, under the furniture, sliding across the floor into walls until I was exhausted and panting! I was SO happy to see her - I thought I'd been abandoned forever. The next day she left me for a little longer, but this time I didn't bark. I was pretty sure she'd come back, and she did! This time I raced around, too, but not quite so hysterically. Just enough to show her I was really glad to see her. Well, today she left me for an hour and a half. She told me that she worried about me the whole time she was gone. I'm not real good with time, so I don't know what an hour and a half means, but I was much calmer than the first time when she was gone 7 minutes. She told me I had to get used to staying alone sometimes, because tomorrow she's going to the ballet, Romeo and Juliet, and she'll have to be gone about three hours. I guess that even though Paris is really dog-friendly, we still can't go to the ballet. Sniff! I don't care to see men in tights, anyway.

No, The Gold Dome Is NOT Our Apartment

Our apartment is a block away from a nice grassy area where dogs and people are actually allowed to walk and sit, a rarity in Paris. Most of the grassy areas are fenced off and "interdit" even to people. The few where people are allowed are usually "interdit" to dogs. But this is a huge area called Esplanade des Invalides, on both sides of a boulevard, where Mom and I sit for awhile on our way back from our daily adventure.

Les Invalides is best known as the tomb of Napoleon, but nearly a hundred years before Napoleon's sarcophagus was installed there by Louis Phillipe in 1861, Louis XIV had it constructed for indigent veterans. The long, low part of the building served as lodging for the former soldiers and was completed in 1674. By the end of the 17th century, up to 4000 pensioners lived there - a veritable city within a city.

In 1677 Jules Mansart designed the dome and church which were divided into two parts, the royal chapel and the church St. Louis des Invalides for the soldiers. The two spaces were opposite and open to each other so Louis could view the altar and his soldiers at the same time.

The red porphyte sarcophagus of Napoleon weighs 4 tons and sits on a base of green garnet. Observers look down at it from a balcony.

There are also four military museums in the complex with the newest building inaugurated in 2008 for "L'Historial Charles de Gaulle."

Below is a link to a YouTube video of Les Invalides.

http://youtu.be/mEUUh7MRdj8

Just Another Day in Paris

Our day started out with a walk around the block so I could do my business. Then Mom had to stop to have her petit dejeuner of croissant and cafe au lait. We're looking for THE BEST PLACE; the criteria for THE BEST PLACE are CHEAP with FLAKY croissants, and BIG cafe au lait. So far we are not having any trouble with #2, but #1 and 3 will take more looking. Today when we were running errands, we passed a place that looked promising, but it's farther away. Mom likes her petit dejeuner very soon after she gets up. Me, too. I don't want to wait long for breakfast.

Living in the city, at least for us small-town folks, presents unfamiliar challenges for familiar errands. We had to locate a vet for dog food, and then we had to find that location. Thank goodness for mappy.com! The dog food had to be ordered, but will come very quickly, and Mom got to learn some new words in French. We asked the girl at the vet about taking the pousette on the metro and she said of course it would be all right, babies have to go on the metro in their poussettes all the time. So we headed for the nearest Metro "bouche" (entrance; literally, "mouth") to buy tickets. Of course, there are stairs to negotiate. Going down isn't too bad - Mom takes it slow so I don't bounce out, and she has gravity working for her, but going back up was a lot more difficult. We need to observe how Moms and their babies do this. Fortunately (for us) there was a homeless man at the top of the stairs who called, "Madame, madame!" and came down to help us carry the poussette to the top. When we got there, Mom thanked him profusely and he quickly picked up his sign in case we had missed it on the way down. Mom was ahead of him though, and was already reaching into her purse for a euro. We sure hope there are homeless men at the other Metro bouches too. The help is definitely worth the price.

In the afternoon, Mom wanted to go to an antiquities fair at Parc Monceau so she loaded me up in the poussette and we set off to the 17th arrondissement. Paris is divided into 20 areas called arrondissements. We are staying in the 7th and the park we were going to is in the 17th. It's a long walk, but not as far as it would seem, because the arrondissements are arranged in the spiral pattern of a snail (makes sense since this is France, right?) starting with the first arrondissement in the center of the city and coiling around eastward with arr. 2, 3, and 4 where it crosses the Seine river and starts coming back west again until it gets to 7 where we are and so on and so on. So to get to the 17th we just had to walk north across the river, which is nearby, cross arr. 8 until we arrive at the 17th.  This walk took us through one of the most posh areas of the city where the haute couture designers, embassies and offices of large corporations are found. Mom was interested to see that the general attire was substantially more upscale here than in our neighborhood. The suits the men were wearing definitely did not come off the rack and the women were also impeccably groomed and faultlessly dressed. I, however, was paying more attention to the four-legged inhabitants of Paris. I've noticed that a lot of the dogs that don't have tails back home, do have long tails here in Paris, for example Yorkshire terriers. I mentioned this to one I met and she said that in some European countries it's against the law to dock tails and ears. BOL! It's about time humans came to their senses! What gives them the right to cut off a dog's body parts because it's fashionable? Speaking of body parts, the other thing I've noticed is that most of the male dogs are still in possession of the family jewels. Lucky dogs. I guess that's what accounts for some of the wild behavior I've seen!

Tinker's Damn (Or Is It Dam?)

Mom and I were in the apartment today, she working on her computer and I taking a nap, when we heard an almost cataclysmic clanging of a bell in the street, getting increasingly loud as it approached our window. We were both startled from what we were doing. Now in Paris there are a lot of noises, and some need to be investigated. Looking out the window we felt like we were in a time warp. An old man was pushing a strange home-made cart-like contraption down the street as he was ringing a bell loud enough to wake the dead. On the cart were grinding wheels and chains. He saw us looking out the window and called up to us. We weren't sure what he said, but thought he must sharpen knives and tools, so we told him we didn't have anything. He nodded and went on down the street, ringing his bell. What century is this, again?

Dirt and The City

Keeping a city of over 2 million people clean is a challenge, and when that city is full of smokers and dog owners who don't scoop the poop, it's a 24 hour-a-day job. Combine that with narrow streets that were appropriate for foot traffic and not giant garbage trucks and the problem increases exponentially. But Paris is up to the challenge. The street cleaners are miniature versions of what we see in the U.S. and they run constantly. On one round, the sidewalks are sprayed (necessary to wash away the dog poop) and on the next round one half of the street is sprayed and brushed. That's when the men in green uniforms with green plastic brooms go into action. As the water runs down the gutters, they sweep along the cigarette butts and other detritus until it reaches the drains that run into the famous Paris sewers.
There are also even smaller sanitary vehicles resembling motorcycles that are actually vacuum cleaners on wheels. Their sole function is to suck up the dog doo. It's actually against the law not to scoop the poop, but apparently the city would rather clean it than enforce it. Or they have just given up. Everywhere there are places for garbage disposal, so it's not that it would be difficult to keep the streets clean, and reminders can be found everywhere: vigilante/proprete is written on all the garbage sacks - Be aware/cleanliness! Still the gutters and sidewalks are full of cigarette butts and - well, you know.


























 Which leads my doggie mind to the matter of smoking, cough, cough. Yes, they still do it. Many restaurants now ban smoking inside, but most are open-air and the smokers stand on the sidewalk just outside the tables. Cough, cough. It's not like they haven't been told - on the cigarette packages the print that says FUMER TUE (smoking kills) is larger than the brand name of the cigarettes. That would scare me and I can't even read! And today, when Mom and I were taking our walk, a young woman flicked her ashes right in front of me. No wonder Mom wants me to ride in the stroller.

Today

I was bad today. I was not as bad as the other dog in the restaurant, however. When Mom stopped for lunch after a long walk to Monoprix to get supplies, I have to admit that, even though she fed me first and gave me water, I really, really wanted to get out of my poussette and help her with what she was having. I kept trying to crawl out over the edge and she had to keep putting me back in and say "NON!" She told the little girl next to us that I was being "mechant" (naughty). Her Mom said, "Il a l'aire." We think that means, "He has that look." I take exception to that! I think I look very innocent. Anyway, there was another dog that we couldn't see who was VERY mechant! He was ear-splittingly vocal in his begging for food. His mom offered to leave, but the waiter assured her it wasn't a problem. My mom was very glad she wasn't his mom.

The walk we went on was initially to find a vet so Mom could buy me some of my hypo-allergenic food, but when we got there it was closed. So we continued on to Monoprix, crossing over the long park called Champs de Mars that stretches from the Eiffel Tower to the military academy. We stopped there for awhile to sit on the grass in the sun and people-and-dog-watch.
















 A very forward terrier came running up to me to give a petit bonjour but I didn't think he was being very polite about it, so I told him so and he ran off. We don't think he was with his mom because he just ran all around alone making trouble with every dog he saw. We also saw a yellow lab, a small white dog with an injured leg that was bandaged, a Manchester terrier, a Havanese, another black and white shih tzu who wore his hair longer than mine, and two beautifully groomed shih tzu who looked like my pals Teddy and Casey!

Since the vet was closed and I'm down to my last half can of prescription dog food, Mom bought some salmon, peas, beans and rice at the store, so I get home-cooked food until we can find a vet that's open. mmm-mmm!

Paris Loves Us!

Today, because it is Easter, Mom decided we would walk from our apartment by the Eiffel Tower to Notre Dame Cathedral; she knew we couldn't go inside because I'm a dog, but she wanted to contemplate our Lord's resurrection at one of the oldest houses of God in existence. The parvis in front of the cathedral was filled with thousands of people waiting in line, not to worship, but to climb up the tower. We skirted the crowd and walked through the garden along the length of the cathedral where we were treated by the sonorous ringing of the church bells, first just one, then others chimed in. It was a moment of majesty.

Did you know that:
The big bass bell (the bourdon) is named Emmanuel? It weighs 13 tons and hangs in the south tower. Four bells with different tones hang in the north tower. Until recently the lighter toned bells rang to mark the time of services and the bourdon would only be rung on special occasions, but Notre Dame has a new chief sacristan, Stephan Urbain, who felt the bells should do more. Originally they were rung by foot pedal, but they are now programmed by computer. Urbain has programmed the bells to play bars of familiar hymns, which they now do on religious holidays. On Easter, the bells play the hymn "Regina Coeli Laetare."


The walk (for Mom) and ride (for me) was long, but we went slowly and enjoyed seeing again familiar places. All along the way we met people who looked and, for the most part, smiled at the poussette. Several times someone would stop and chat and tell me I was "jolie" (pretty). We met a large shih tzu on one of the few grassy areas that permitted dogs, but he wasn't very friendly. He didn't even give me a "petit bonjour." And there were the curmudgeons who said, "Tsk, tsk," and one who said, "Mon dieu!" We assumed those were negative comments. But most people thought we were cute.

We had a late lunch on a floating restaurant on the Seine, just across from the Notre Dame Cathedral. Well, Mom had most of the lunch - I just had bites from her plate. She had packed me a lunch of dog food which I had already eaten, but it didn't compare to the salade gargouille that she was having.

We are starting to understand why many of the dogs here look so scruffy. When we get home at the end of the day, Mom always has to wash my feet and undercarriage. They are black and smelly with everything I've been walking through and you don't want to know what that is. Mom is thinking of buying me some shoes.

 These men are playing boules, a game like bocci ball.  You can see their ball bags hanging on the tree.

Mom and I liked to walk along the Esplanade between Les Invalides and Pont Alexandre III. 

The bouquinistes are booksellers along the river who have wooden stalls that close up when they go home.

Mom bought two posters of glamorous models of yesteryear and their greyhounds in memory of Tanner.

The sun was very bright the day we visited Pont des Arts, a very famous bridge over the Seine that has been painted many times.  Imagine our surprise to find the grillwork covered with...PADLOCKS!  We found out that lovers have been putting them there with their names stenciled on to signify their love.  Then they throw the key in the Seine!  The city of Paris threatened to take them all off, but they just kept coming back.  There's no stopping true love!

Behind me is the Seine with a couple of its barques and peniches.  Some of them still transport goods, but many now transport tourists.  In the distance, on Ile de la Cite, the island in the middle of the river, you can see the statue of the Vert Galant, Henri IV.  The island comes to a point like the prow of a ship and it's a popular place for lovers to sit.

We arrived Easter weekend and the windows of the candy stores were filled with chocolate eggs and bunnies.  One egg was a big as me!

I'm exhausted from our long day. It felt so good to lie here in the sun and watch the soccer players.  I soon fell asleep.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

We are now in our second apartment, not as new and convenient as the first one, but also not as noisy and in a livelier area.  Just as soon as I get used to one place and routine, she throws something else at me.  Good thing I'm a pretty balanced guy.  Now we have people living with us.  First one came and the next day another one came.  I wonder what will happen tomorrow?  I'm OK with it, as long as Mom sticks around, but every once in awhile she leaves me in their care and even though I'm sure they're very nice ladies, I DON'T WANT MOM TO LEAVE ME!  I get all agitated and panicky and try to follow her.  When she was gone for a few hours, I waited by the door for a long time, but it didn't seem like she was going to come back, so I started getting an anxiety attack again.  I was so happy when she finally came back that I had to grab my bunny and race madly around the apartment.

This is the door Mom went out, so...

Our old apartment had a tiny elevator in it that was just big enough for the poussette and Mom and me.  This apartment is on the fourth floor and NO ELEVATOR!  I'm an old guy and going up all those stairs is pretty hard on me.  Mom says we can go slow, but she can't carry me because she's an "old guy" too, and doesn't want to exacerbate her sciatica.

Today we went for a walk through Mom's favorite place in Paris, le jardin du Luxembourg, a famous park where many people love to stroll, jog, or sit in the ubiquitous green chairs and read the paper or just enjoy the sun.  There's a pond, a bassin, where children have sailed their boats for generations.  The palace was the home of Marie de Medicis at one time and is now the home of the French Senat.

La Poussette

I suffered a bit of jet lag, I guess. I didn't know if it was day or night. We went to bed when the French clock it was 9:00, but my biological clock said it was only noon. I tried waking Mom up three times during the "night," but she just kept saying, "Not yet, Patch." The third time she put me down on the floor and went back to sleep. When she (finally) woke up, I was back on the bed and she started to wonder what I had done while I was awake and she was sleeping. When she got to the area where the pee pads had been laid down and she saw the wet spot, she got all excited and starting praising me lavishly. I don't know what the fuss was all about - isn't that what they were there for?

Mom had been craving REAL croissants - she says nobody, NOBODY, makes croissants like the French do, so we went to a tiny bar cafe and she got to have her cafe au lait and croissants. The petit dejeuner (French breakfast) on the menu only listed one croissant, but she ordered an extra one. The waiter probably cast an eye at her waistline and thought, "That explains it."

After EXPERIENCING the croissants and nearly moaning with pleasure (remember Meg Ryan?) Mom decided to assemble the stroller (la poussette) so we could go to the market street a couple of blocks away. When you're riding off the ground in a market street, the smells are way different. I didn't get much of a thrill at the vegetable stands, but the BAKERY! I could scarcely keep from jumping out of my poussette!

There were lots of dogs at the market - some were French and some were not. I was the only one with a poussette. There was one French Westie there who had not been "bien eleve" as most French dogs are. He was attacking every other dog he passed. We attracted quite a lot of attention, mostly from older men and ladies who would smile (yes, the French do smile) and murmur something. One very distinguished gentleman stopped and chatted with Mom in French a bit. The children loved the poussette and laughed and pointed us out to their moms. One little girl was especially delighted because she had her own poussette for her doll.

By the time we were ready to go back to the apartment, I was scarcely noticeable in the poussette amongst all the purchases Mom had made. Unfortunately, she put the tastier ones in the bottom where I couldn't reach them. But I helped her unload them when we got home.

Arrival in Paris

I do not recommend airline travel. While all the human travelers were being served food with the most mouth-watering smells that wafted down to tickle my nose and initiate a Pavlovian response, I was in my carrier by my Mom's feet. The flight attendants wouldn't even let me stick my head out of the top of the carrier. I fussed a bit the first hour, but then I gave up and either stared accusingly at Mom or slept. By the time we reached CDG airport in Paris, I was famished. I hadn't peed in my carrier and I hadn't peed the couple of times Mom took me into the lavatory and offered me the opportunity to do it on pee pads. I was saving it. As soon as she let me out outside the airport, I lifted my leg and peed all over the carrier!

Not exactly traveling light

When we were driven into the city, the weather was warm and balmy. Mom kept exclaiming how beautiful it was with the trees leafed out in fresh green, not yet having had time to become covered with soot and dust. After we settled into our apartment we took a little stroll around. This place is a nose's paradise! The wealth and abundance of the odors are overwhelming - Mom kept urging me to come along, but it was hard to pass up all those scents. I was almost dizzy from the richness of this sensory experience - all my olfactory glands firing off at the same time! We met a French lady and her dog on the sidewalk - she (the dog) was a blond, curly-haired poodle who was wearing her hair in a longer, natural look. She was quite friendly and we exchanged a few sniffs. The French lady called it the "petit bonjour."

There are lots of trees in Paris and they seem to be divided into two distinct kinds: the one where you can get right up close and sniff who's visited it and the kind that has a sort of barrier around it to keep us dogs away. I prefer the former kind.