Poor Sophie.

Humiliated in the back seat of her own car.

Guess Who?

On Tuesday, I will see this beast, she will ignore me, and everything will be back to normal.

I can't wait.

Sophie is not in Paris
And that is a sad thing. I miss her.

I have been here for more than a week and despite all the stories you hear about dogs in Paris, I am in serious canine withdrawal. There are plenty of dogs, but none that you get to actually pet. The French are a little reserved about this sort of thing. Perhaps that is why I dreamed about a lost, sandy-coloured Cairn Terrier the other night. One who, despite his dog tag, had no owner and I had to take him back to Montreal with me.





So yesterday, I was walking along Rue de Buci in the St. German area when what do I spot in front of me, trotting along like he owns the place? A sandy-coloured Cairn Terrier, with no owner in sight. But he did have a tag, just like in my dream.

I followed the dog for two blocks or so and then lost him, so I wandered back up the street, intent on a table at a cafe I'd seen early.

What a strange coincidence that had been, but I settled at my table, with a glass of beer and a collection of short stories I am still not sure about when ......

who should sauntered up?

The Cairn Terrier!

I was kind of freaking inside a little. How weird is this?

He walked into the cafe like he owned the place,
made the rounds inside,
then came back out and plopped down under my table.

At this point, I was really beginning to wonder if I had in fact developed special premonitory powers.

I was considering where one might find a toilettage de chien in the 6th arrondissement for a bath and brush before his plane ride to Montreal.

As it turns out, the Cairn Terrier is named Orson does own the place. Or at least his owner does. He belongs to the proprietor of the cafe.
He is king of Rue de Buci and strolls the hood, cleaning up scraps of food on the street and greeting all the other pups.

Woosh