Monsieur Chat

Mom's been down with a cold and hasn't been able to type for me; plus, I haven't been anywhere or done anything the last few days to report, so I'll tell you a story instead.

In the year 2000, a large, yellow, grinning cat began to appear on the walls of buildings and subways in Paris.  Different from most graffiti, he was clearly identifiable, although appeared in different positions and roles.  Chris Marker, French documentarian, set out to discover the creator of the cat and in doing so, was led all over the city whenever a new one appeared.  The search for the cat is the thread that weaves together a chronicle of incidents of a political nature: strikes, demonstrations, election campaigns, political scandals etc., that Marker works into his documentary.  The mysterious grinning cat begins to appear among signs and banners of political demonstrations.  Marker finally reveals the creator of the grinning cat to be an art collective known as Monsieur Chat.  At the end of the film, the painters are shown painting a huge grinning cat in front of the Pompidou Center, the modern art museum in Paris. Mom saw this documentary last year at home and was intrigued by the cat.  Today, her friend Sue found one of the cats as she was meandering through the textile market in the 18th arrondissement.  She wants to go see it for herself when she recovers.

Another Day, Another Cemetery

Maybe Mom and I are kind of partial to cemeteries because we met in one, so here we are again.  The Pere Lachaise cemetery is the largest in Paris and has many famous people buried there.  It's built on a hill and if you go in the wrong side you have to go uphill to see anything.  We went in the wrong side.  The streets are very old and are made of fat cobblestones which grabbed the front wheel of the poussette and threatened to throw me out, so after awhile Mom put me on my leash and let me walk while she pulled the poussette over the steep, bumpy ground.  The cemetery covers over 118 acres of land and holds the remains of over 300,000 people.  The locals call it the city of the dead and it does look like a city of miniature houses with winding lanes but no occupants.  The trees and feral cats are the only living things there.  Some of the sepulchers are crumbling with age and need shoring up to keep them from falling in.  Some of the famous people who are buried there are Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Abelard and Heloise, Balzac, Sarah Bernhardt, Gustave Caillebotte, and Frederic Chopin, in addition to 152 other "most famous" on the list.  On the farthest corner of the cemetery was an area dedicated to war victims.  Several memorials honored those who died in the concentration camps of WWII and there was a section of the outer wall which held a plaque commemorating those revolutionaries of the Paris Commune of 1871 who had been executed there and buried in a common grave.  This is the 140th anniversary of that revolution and there are several exhibitions in the city which memorialize the event.

We had lunch at a corner restaurant near the cemetery which turned out to be not only delicious, but quite entertaining.  Our waiter was a Berber from Algeria who was a jazz musician and had been living in Paris for the last 20 years.  He had a very interesting history which included being forbidden to speak his native language in Algeria and, at one point, when he was a university student, having to hide in the hills from government troops.  He was planning to go to New York to become successful in his musical career.  We sincerely wished him good luck.  While we were having lunch, something mysterious was going on.  Every corner had several French policemen standing by and there were police cars and vans parked around.  A policeman started to stretch red and white diagonally striped tape across a parked car and soon a tiny police tow truck came and towed that car away.  While it was gone, the policeman stretched the tape across the next car and soon the tiny tow truck came back and towed that car away.  While we were having our lunch, the police had impounded every car on the block, one at a time.  We asked our friend, the waiter, why they were doing this and he told us there was going to be a demonstration so they were clearing the streets.  We felt sorry for the owners of the cars who would come back to an empty space.

Coming...

Going...

All Gone!

Walking in the cemetery, I picked up a lot of dirt, debris and cockle-burrs so I had to have another bath.

My Trip to the Veterinaire

I got up this morning not feeling well and peed on the floor.  Mom was upset and puzzled because I'd been so good about not doing that inside.  I ate my breakfast and soon something started to hurt and itch and I went wild trying to scratch and rub it off.  I'm allergic to fleas, so even though Mom had put Advantage Multi on me a couple of days ago, she thought I may have been bitten by a flea, so she gave me some Benadryl.  A little later, I threw up my breakfast and kept throwing up until I thought I was going to throw up the lining of my stomach.  Finally I stopped and got kind of sleepy from the Benadryl, but still kept moving from place to place to try to find a place that would make me feel better.  I tried laying behind things and in the dark and on the cool tile and in my house and on a pile of shopping bags, but nothing worked.  Finally, Mom called the vet who, fortunately, was nearby and got an appointment for the afternoon.  When we got there, she and the vet communicated in half French and half English until the vet understood what had been going on with me.  She started to examine me very carefully and guess what she found.   A TICK!!!  Mom had noticed it this morning when she was grooming me, but had never seen one before so she didn't know what it was.  She thought it was an old age wart!  The vet continued to examine me after she had removed that one and she found TWO MORE!  The one on my lip was the one that was causing me all the problems today.  My lip, under my whiskers, was red and puffy.  Poor Mom was horrified!  So the vet gave me two shots, which REALLY hurt, and gave Mom some ointment for my lip and some pills for the itch.  Also something for my upset tummy.  Even though Mom had just put the Advantage on me, now she has to get some Frontline for the tick problem.  The vet said that ticks are prevalent in the south of France, but we weren't there; but we were in the east and in the woods.  She said in the east you have to really be careful of Lyme disease.  Oh, dear, what a scary world this is!
No pictures today - the ticks stayed at the vet's.

They Love Me, They Really Love Me!

We left Paris for the day and took a river cruise up the Seine, through the city and the industrial suburbs, then up the Marne at the confluence of the two rivers.  We went through  two locks on our way to an island called St. Catherine where we stopped and had lunch.   Mom, her friends and I were the only English-speaking people on board and because the French all love dogs so much, she got into many conversations with my adoring public.  Again, many people wanted to know my breed.  Mom has given up trying to tell the whole story of my dubious background and has just shortened the answer to "shih tzu."  Maybe they ask because I have more nose than most shih tzu, or maybe because my eyes aren't as large as most, or maybe shih tzu are rare in France, although we have seen several.  Anyway, everyone wanted to pet me, and most were well-mannered enough to ask Mom and then ask me by letting me sniff their hands first.  One lady wanted to hold my paw, but I don't even want Mom to touch my paws, so I let her know very clearly that this was not acceptable.  No, I didn't bite or growl - I'm too well-bred for that - but I did very quickly withdraw my paw.

  

No Bone

When Mom said we were going to visit a cemetery, my first thought was BONES!  But when we got there there were no bones visible, only stone slabs and small houses.  What a disappointment!  Mom took some pictures, though, so she must have liked it.  Everything was packed together very tightly, so there was hardly room to walk through these monuments.  Some were very old and had moss growing on them and others were more recent with shiny surfaces.  Many of them had whole families buried together.  We visited the grave of Edouard Manet, the father of modern painting, where I had my picture taken.  I'm all zipped up in my poussette because Mom had to promise not to let me out in the cemetery.  We also saw the grave of Claude Debussy and Cognac-Jay who was a very rich entrepreneur and whose house is now a museum here in Paris.
Afterward, Mom's friends went to the Museum of Architecture which is an amazing collection of life-sized models of the facades of many of the cathedrales, hotel de villes, and other notable buildings all around France.  Mom has already been there, so when we were not allowed to come in, we went shopping in an area called Passy, which has very upscale  clothing boutiques.  All she wanted was a T-shirt, but the Parisians are very diet-conscious and small to begin with, so most of what she looked at was too small.  Sizes in France are a little discouraging to begin with for an American woman - Mom does not like to ask for a size 46!
Our Metro ride home was long and hot.  I don't mind the noise or the crowds, but, being brachycephalic, the heat does get to me.  Mom has a hard time with the poussette and all the stairs, too, so we try to avoid the Metro if we can.

Living in Paris

What I like: Mom takes me everywhere, either on the leash or in the stroller.  If I'm not allowed in, she doesn't go either.

What Mom likes: the architecture of different styles according to the period or the region in which they were built.


What I like: the smells that are everywhere - lamp-posts, walls, sidewalks, garbage bags, markets...

What Mom likes: the food - rabbit in mustard sauce, frog's legs in garlic sauce, veal in cream sauce, duck and garlic fried potatoes, creme brulee, raspberry tarts, croissants, millefeuille...

What I like: the attention I get riding around in the stroller, the cooing comments from the French dog lovers.

What Mom likes: the night.  The city is a-light, the streets are alive, the in-line skaters are amazing the onlookers, the bateau mouches are plying the current upstream on the Seine, lighting up the great buildings and monuments with their searchlights, the narrow alleys are bubbling over with excitement, music, exotic window displays...

What I like: meeting French dogs who give you the petit bonjour.

What Mom likes: learning new French words and improving her fluency.

What I like: tasting new French dog treats

What we both like: being together in the most beautiful, exciting city in the world!

Dogs of War

Dog tags; dog soldiers.  Do you know where these terms came from?  Both terms came from the use of dogs in WWI.  Both sides used dogs as messengers during the war because they were faster and smaller than men, and therefore could avoid enemy fire better than human soldiers.  They could travel over rough terrain more easily.  Often dogs would warn soldiers of approach of an enemy or lead the medics to a wounded soldier.  Several dogs were awarded medals for bravery or wounds received.  Special gas masks were made for canine soldiers because of the use of nerve gas by the Germans.  One famous dog soldier who became a movie star after the war was Rin Tin Tin; he made popular the "heroic dog"  who could reason out solutions to problems.  A successor to Rinty was Lassie, a "civilian" dog, but no less heroic.  There is an excellent website describing the use of dogs during World War I which tells of the heroic actions of these brave dogs, many of whom were wounded or killed in action and to whom the soldiers owed a great debt.http://community-2.webtv.net/Hahn-50thAP-K9/K9History2/

Champagne and Cuisses de Grenouille

 We stayed overnight in an little old hotel in Chalons that claimed to be the location where Jeanne d'Arc stayed when she came through the area with her troops.  We didn't see any writing on the wall of our room that said "Jeanne d'Arc slept here" though.  The room was tiny but charming and we had a view of the red tile roofs and the cathedral peeking above them.  The bed was comfortable and had a soft downy comforter that I could sink down into.

 When we went to the Tourist Office, we saw a poster there for an exhibit about "Dogs of War."  Mom had heard a little bit about the dogs that had had a place in World War I on both sides of the fighting.  Even the poster was sad to see and Mom knew she wouldn't be able to go to the exhibit.  She just gave me an extra tight hug and said she was glad I didn't have to be a soldier.




















 After we left the pretty canals and dog-friendly parks of Chalons-en-Champagne, we rode in the car to Epernay, in the middle of Champagne country with its rolling hills of vineyards and chalky soil.  In this area are chalk caves that served as cellars for the Champagne, but we were too late for a tour.  The town had elegant chateau-like buildings that lined the avenue into town.  These were the great Champagne houses like Moet-Chandon, Mercier and Comtesse LaFond.  Mom and her friends decided to drink Champagne instead of taking a tour so they found a restaurant that served it by the glass.  They sat on the tiny terrace but there was no room for me.  We tried moving some chairs around, but the owner came out and fussed around so we put them back and I went on the sidewalk. She did lower the awning, though, to shade me and brought me a bowl of water, so my attitude toward her softened a bit. I was zipped up in my poussette but was sitting close enough to see and smell what Mom was eating.  She ordered - FROGS LEGS !  Have you ever SEEN a frog?  Have you ever SMELLED a frog?  Does that seem like something YOU would want to eat?  Yet she raved over the flavor of the sauce and the tenderness of the meat.  I do have to say the aroma was mouthwatering, but she said No, Patch, this sauce would be too rich for you, and gave me kibble instead.

As we drove out of town, we stopped at one of the vineyards so we could get a close-up look at the grapes which were just starting to show.  They were about the size of b.b.'s but held a lot of promise.
Then back in the car again for the long drive back to Aulnay-sous-Bois to return the car and take the RER home to Paris.

Art Nouveau, Art Schmouveau!

Nancy is the birthplace of Art Nouveau, which my mom is crazy about.  If you ask me, it just looks like a bunch of unnecessarily fancy furniture and bulging buildings.  But she had to go to the Ecole d'Art Noouveau in Nancy to see the early designs that started the whole movement.  Well, guess what.  They wouldn't let me in, even in my stroller.  So while Mom's friends went into the museum, we went to a great park that was people and dog friendly.  After Mom had her fix of coffee ice cream and I had my usual bowl of water, we went back to the museum and Mom's friend Virginia took me back to the park while Mom went into the museum.  She likes that sinuous style of art and decoration - I like sniffing in the park.

We also had petit dejeuner (croissants and cafe au lait) at Place Stanislas, a beautiful square in the center of town that was dedicated to King Stanislas of Poland who was also  Duke of Lorraine, the department of France that Nancy is located in.  This square was so clean and pristine that there was nothing to sniff.  It had a lot of fancy buildings and gates ornamented with gold, but absolutely nothing of interest to a dog.

The next day we got in the car and drove to Chalons-en-Champagne in the middle of champagne country.  I got to do a lot of walking around through a park that had ducks, geese and swans with babies.  I didn't get too close to them - they were a little fussy about dogs coming near their babies.  Chalons has a river and some canals that were fun to walk and sniff around and Mom took some pictures of me enjoying myself there.  I was so tired by the time we got back to the hotel that I just crashed on the sidewalk next to Mom and her friends who were having some refreshment at the outdoor bar.

We stayed in a little hotel here in Chalons which was small but charming.  We could look out our window onto the red tiled roofs and chimneys and even had a view of the top of the cathedral.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trench Warfare

Today Mom and her friends rented a car and drove outside the city.  We went to a small town called St. Mihiel near Verdun.  This is where some terrible battles took place during World War I.  At one of the sites we visited, the trenches dug by soldiers to protect themselves from the enemy were still clearly visible.  They had filled in a bit over nearly one hundred years, but you could still walk in them and see the stone and cement used to shore up the sides.  There were bunker-like caves for shelters, but for the most part the trenches were open to the elements and to enemy shelling.  The town was occupied by Germans for four years and the trench warfare between the French and the Germans, and near the end, American soldiers under General Pershing, went on for all that time.  The bloodshed and loss of life were horrific.

It was very quiet there - we arrived late afternoon after the tour buses had all gone.  In fact, we were the only ones there.  Mom let me off my leash in the forest as we walked around in the silence.  The only sounds were the layers of dried leaves crunching underfoot and the singing of the birds.  As we gazed into the trenches it almost seemed as though we could hear the ghostly voices of the men who had died there.  It seemed a hallowed place and I sniffed around reverently and did not pee.

This sign says that this was a German shelter.

 The fallen leaves of trees, the moss and undergrowth have softened the reality of barren mud and the stink of trench warfare nearly a century ago.

Big City, Narrow Streets

Ever wonder how a huge city keeps its streets clean?  Must have huge equipment, right?  The problem is, in a city as old as Paris, many of the streets are very narrow - the width of two horses passing.  So, to the amusement of tourists like me, the cleaning machines are surprisingly small.  In one case, when a normal-sized garbage truck tried to take a corner on one of these narrow streets, it took a crew of four men to remove bollards, barriers, and small cars while someone outside the truck navigated to avoid running over pedestrians and the driver maneuvered back and forth in a tight space until the feat was accomplished.

At least twice a day, water runs from pipes down the gutters of the streets to wash all the debris to a drain.  To keep it all flowing, city workers in green overalls sweep it downstream with green plastic brooms.  There are also mini-street cleaners that spray the sidewalk with a long extension while also sweeping the streets with rotating brushes. In the morning the sidewalks are washed clean except for the cigarette butts up against the buildings that the sprayer couldn't reach.

The Bread Fair

Today Mom and Susan and I went to the bread fair in front of Notre Dame.  There was a competition of bread and pastry baking by bakers from three different regions in France.  We arrived just as the winner was being announced.  Winning this kind of competition is a very big thing and there was a lot of cheering.  There were some ladies in traditional costume of their regions and they let me sit with them to have my picture taken.  Right after that, someone took a picture of me in my poussette.  I felt as important as the bread ladies!

Breads and pastries were on display, and embellished with intricate sculptures made out of dough.



                                                                                                                 

St. Severin is a Gothic church with a cloister that was at one time a burial place for rich and poor.  The little churchyard is an island of peacefulness surrounded by a tangle of noisy, narrow streets buzzing with tourists.  In the 15th century the rich and prominent people were laid to rest in the quaint Gothic spaces with the peaked roofs and the poor were buried in a common grave in the middle.  Later, in the 17th century the arcades were separated and closed off for living spaces for priests, so the living took the place of the dead.