Please play with me! PLEASE! Brittany spaniel in St. Genie de Fontadit, near Beziers in France.
I could do with a playmate! Donkey in a field – all alone! – Romilly, France.
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I found Ringo in the back of a pickup truck waiting patiently for his family to come out of a store. When they emerged I asked (them) if I could take his picture and he obligingly posed for the camera. His name really is Ringo!
Don’t leave me! Please don’t go!
How could you leave a face like this?
Every day during our walks around our French village this little sweetie would follow us along the boundary of his property, put his front paws up on the wall and give us this look. He never barked, just looked. Awwwww!
How long do you suppose it would take to get a doggie passport?
And what do you supose French law is with regard to dognapping?
Au revoir France and cute doggie. For now.
P.S. Does anyone know what breed of dog this is?
How much is that doggie in the window?
A vehicle I covet!
A French bullfight!
My balloons! They’ve escaped! Mickey! Come back!
Perpendicular parking as well as parallel parking. The gendarme was laughing!
A great way to travel.
I’m watching you!
Speak to me! Hello? Parlez vous francais?
What are you looking at?
My shoes? Oo-la-la!
I made fun of Jimmy. No change there then he would say. Walking to the Pacific shore from our secluded campsite on a sheltered path amongst scrubby shore pines, he stopped suddenly, grabbed my arm and said, “Listen. Sea lions.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said laughing.
“No! Listen.”
“Yes. I heard it. Don’t be silly. It’s not sea lions.”
“Yes it is.”
“Well where are they? Hiding in the sand dunes? Camouflaged by the sea grass? Sunbathing on the beach? Arguing over brunch in their RV? There must a dog kennel over there somewhere.” I waved my hand in the general direction of the barking and waltzed off not taken in with his fanciful imagination for one moment.
It’s funny how, at a certain age, information surfaces in the brain, briefly, and then sinks without trace, but if you can hook it, reel it in and throw it into the hold of memories before it sinks it could stop you making a fool of yourself.
The next day, driving towards the local town of Newport, Oregon, I saw a sign for the Historic Bayfront and remembered having read something fascinating about it in the guidebook before we set off on our trip. But what? It wouldn’t come to me.
We swooped off the main road and parked in town beside the picturesque fishing fleet. As we got out of the car a cacophony of barking sea lions filled the fishy sea air. There were dozens of the blubbery creatures, some reputedly weighing up to a tonne, wallowing on the rocks and low-lying jetties, sunning themselves and napping. Like so many giant slugs, a great heap of sea lions appeared to form an island in the middle of the harbour. They slept on their backs. They slept on their fronts. They held tricky yoga poses. They lifted their faces to the sun, eyes closed, like New York office workers on their lunch break. But the sea lions that weren’t napping were barking. Just like dogs.
Oh yes, I remember now. I read about that in the guidebook.
I have to say, Jimmy did not gloat with triumph as I would have done. It was definitely this barking we had heard the day before and the sound had travelled a good four miles to us on the beach. We admired them from the fishing wharf until we were too cold, went for a walk, had some lunch and came back to see that many of them had not moved.
You might think one sea lion looks much like another but number “95” – distinguished by a brand on his butt – had not given up his prime position with his harem. Apparently a bull will protect his cows, as many as thirty of them, and go for weeks without food to herd them because the cows are not particularly faithful! The greedy devil! The cows!
So I stand corrected. He did hear sea lions. I was wrong and he was right, but don’t tell Jimmy. He likes to write down these occasions in his book.
I tried to spell the barking noise. Is it EU! EU! EU! or EUW! EUW! EUW! or OOOH! OOOH! OOOH? I guess you had to be there.
Which Way Now 101 