My dear friend, Lynn, living abroad, sends regular e-mails of sights, sounds, excursions and general tales of living life in France....here's one I adore:
I arrived a little early at my favorite Maussane restaurant for lunch with friends, so I just plopped down, ordered a wee Pastis, and sat back to do what I do best, watch the world go by. After about ten minutes a woman arrived with a little dog. Almost to a canine, French dogs have wonderful restaurant manners, and many times you do not even realize one is eating with you until the diners get up to leave and the dog shuffles out from under the table.
Today, the dog did not get under the table. His person put a little blanket down on the chair opposite her, and he dog hopped up and sat down on it. She received her menu, made her choice and smiled over at him.
I could not hear what she was saying, only the rhythm of it. She wasn’t making little kitchy-coo sounding dog comments to him. She wasn’t saying things like, “Aren’t you mommy’s smart little boy? Sitting up there so good! What a nice doggie! What a good boy!” No, Ma’am. She spoke to him about as often as you would someone you live with who already knows about your day. Sometimes she’d smile. He just looked back attentively. (See picture)
He sat for over an hour and quietly watched children playing to his right, and then watched people eating to his left. When his person spoke to him, he looked at her with polite attention. Not once did he beg or whimper or eyeball her lunch. Never did she offer him a scrap of food. Mostly they sat in silence like a comfortable old couple.
After she paid her bill, she got up and pulled his chair back. He hopped down, she put his blanket in her purse and off they went.
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Lia: Yep - the first three look like a bath...this last one: Heaven.
