Les Petites Chiens

Dogs in Paris are much better behaved than American dogs. (Cory, are you reading this?)  It’s actually unbelievable.  I say this, because I see dogs doing things, and I don’t believe what I’m seeing.

So many dogs walk around off-leash, strutting in front of their owners like they own Paris.  They never bark, run away, or cause any trouble.  Where are these dogs bred and where can I get one?

I saw a golden retriever jogging alongside a couple bicycling down Saint Germain des Pres this morning.  Just jogging next to them. No leash.  No bird chasing.  No running in front of cars.  Who even knew this was possible?

There’s a dog by the Maison who hangs out on the window ledge, like a cat.  Doesn’t bark, whine, or jump.  Just sits there and looks cute.  Give me one, please.

Ladies carry around tiny Chihuahuas and Yorkies and swanky mixed breeds in petite designer purses to department stores, boutiques, and even restaurants.  I can’t imagine a NYC restaurant welcoming a purse-dog/rat inside…

My favorite dog experience, by far, was last Sunday in a café. I enjoyed a delicious brunch at a crepe place near the Maison and continued on down the road to meet other friends for a second brunch.

There’s nothing like French portion sizes to make you feel like a glutinous American.  I’m always eating and always hungry.  Everything is delicious.  Everything is overpriced.  I’m waiting to get back to NYC before I let all of this set in, but at least my clothes still fit…

We sat down at a table near the window and made ourselves comfortable.  Well, as comfortable as one can be without a dog.  After we placed our orders, a family with an adorable, off-leash Bichon sits down behind us. No restaurant in the US would allow this, but Europe is awesome!  The dog ended up spending the rest of the meal on my lap, greatly enhancing my afternoon and definitely making the case for pets in restaurants!

After lunch part two, I left my friends to write in a café otherwise known as chez Starbucks and then went for a walk to Ile Saint Louis, which is just past Notre Dame and apparently famous for its ice cream.

I braved the forty-five minute line at Berthillon for a scoop of chocolate ice cream in a cone, and like many things with a wait that long, it was overrated.   However, I read a good chunk of my book and eavesdropped on some fantastic Canadian tourists, so all wasn’t lost!