Puppy Pic Of The Week

Just the other day, when I took Mlle. C. out for her afternoon walk and we made our way out to the end of the dirt road that runs through the vineyard, we had a very interesting encounter.

Callie found a crushed water bottle in the vineyard and decided it needed to be moved to a new location. So she took care of it.

Max and his human, one of the vineyard workers, were out trimming and burning as usual (Max was obviously supervising since only the human was doing any work). With them was a woman who was helping with the trimming, and two dogs. Callie and I had never seen these two dogs before.

One was a basset hound, male, low to the ground, with a huge head. He's called le Baron, the guy told me. He lives over there (pointing across the ravine to the next hill) and shows up on his own every now and then. I take him home in the afternoons when I leave, he said.

I'm not sure whether Baron is his real name or just what the vineyard guy calls him.

This other dog is Cléo, said the woman.

Of course, Callie needed no introduction. The dogs played together for a while after the initial sniffing of parts, which is what dogs do in lieu of an introduction. They stayed close by, running up and down the rows between the vines, looping around at the ends to change direction. And Max, it turns out, is not a female. She's a he! "Il est castré," I found out.

I told the other humans that I was out early because we were trying to avoid Lily (read the story of Lily here). The guy laughed knowingly and the woman rolled her eyes. Then she said that she always leaves the vineyard before Lily gets there. Lily, she said, always takes the other dogs and runs away with them. "Ils se sauvent," were the actual words (just to remind you that this is all happening in French).

The guy said that he noticed that Lily did that with Callie, and that he often saw me wandering around whistling for Callie to come back after an encounter with Lily. I felt better about my initial dislike for Lily and her person; I was not alone.

We all commiserated over what a pain poor Lily is, then Callie and I took our leave and headed home. She came when I called and was not at all tempted to stay with the other dogs. If Lily had been there, Callie would have been off who knows where.

When we were about 50 meters away, Callie stopped. Le Baron was galloping up toward us, huge ears flapping, and on arrival began to resume play with Callie. Then the vineyard guy came up and picked up the dog so we could leave. Don't you have a leash? he asked me as he was holding the basset hound. Well, I do, I said sheepishly, but I didn't bring it with me today. He laughed the way you laugh when you want to call someone a dumb-ass but are too polite to do it.

We went on our way without further incident.