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.