Day 9

The dog has nine lives . . .

The day started at a relatively leisurely pace today.  We were pleased to discover that my pants had not walked off on their own overnight.  With fresh clothes on our backs, we enjoyed a quick bite to eat and then off to the park to let the boys stretch their legs a bit.  Was another moderately sunny day with relatively mild temps.  The park was quite busy.  The lack of open commerce on Sundays certainly forces relaxation.  The nature of the culture is very laid back, but as with any big city, things can be a bit frantic throughout the week.  Sunday, however, is a time for family . . . a time for friends . . . a time to relax and unwind.

We spent an hour or so at the park.  I am pleased to say that this time I was not escorted out by armed guard.  We enjoyed our time in the sun and piled back in our rental V dub for a short drive north for an appointment with an individual selling what we hoped would be our second car.  MY car.  This was to be our economy car and we had a strict budget to abide by.  We reached the small church in the middle of a quaint village by the name of Galgon to meet our friends from the North who had made the appointment and assisted us in our search yesterday.  We were the last to arrive.  This was going to be a private party transaction and the gentleman selling the car greeted us politely and was receptive to our French introductions.  We exchanged names and pleasantries in the mother tongue and  having exhausted our command of the language, we let our interpreter begin our inquiry about the vehicle.

As it turns out, the young man selling the vehicle spoke a bit of English, so we worked out some broken communications that we could all understand.  He understood a bit of my English and I am pleased to report that I could understand a bit of his French.  He was a tall, thin man in his late twenties to early thirties.  Dressed in jeans, converse, and a brown track jacket, he looked as though he had just walked off of a college campus.  Since this was to be my vehicle, my wife tended to the children while us gents chatted about fuel consumption and service records.  After a quick test drive down some very scenic byways, we returned to the town square to discuss terms.  We reached an agreeable number and it was then off to this gentleman's home to handle the paperwork.

The home was modest and was what you would expect of any young couple just starting out.  A yellow lab in the front yard and a wife tending to a 7 mo. old boy named Paul.  It was all very familiar.  Almost American.  They were very friendly folks that, like everyone else we have encountered, would have given you the clothes off of their backs.  After filling out some paperwork (in triplicate) and chatting in both English and French, the deal was complete and I had in my hands the keys to my new car.  The young man selling the car was actually a very whitty individual who was very proud of his 1984 vw beetle which he was obliged to show me.  One last matter to attend to . . . You see, as a cost savings, we agreed that this vehicle was going to be purchased without the radio.  He had a bottom dollar, and that bottom dollar did not include his radio that he received as a birthday present.

Not yet having any insurance for said vehicle we thought it best to park my beauty at our friends house until all the proper licensure and insurance had been obtained.  I am sure you are all wondering by now, just what kind of vehicle I am now proud to call my own . . . the ugly truth of the matter is that I will be jetting around town in Peugeot's finest 206.  A 2004 model . . . silver in color.  Unfortunately, the 206 is not a designation of it's horsepower.  I believe the 2 stands for the number of people it would take to pick the car up off of the ground, the 0 indicating the number of chicks that could be picked up while driving it, and the 6 obviously referring to the number of minutes it would take to reach the equivalent of 60 miles per hour.  To give you an idea of it's size, my father owns a Honda Fit in the States and you could put my vehicle in it's trunk.

Parking my "Lion" branded beauty at our friends' house after a quick and obviously quiet (hole in the dash where the radio used to be) drive to our friends house, we adjourned to their sun porch for some tea and cookies.  Chatting about our purchased, we sipped our beverages and watched our children play a little futbol in the backyard.  Our visit was cut a bit short because we had to get back on the road.  We had another appointment to keep today and, little did we know, it was going to be the most memorable event of the day.

During my wife's company Christmas party back in the States, the French CFO put us in contact with the folks that were renting his flat here in town.  An American couple oddly enough.  Even more of a coincidence is that the Mrs. is from Columbia, MO.  Small world indeed.  To be honest, I wasn't feeling very much like company after two long days of vehicle shopping, but it all worked out in the end.  When we returned to our hotel, we discovered that our room had still not been cleaned.  After sorting things out with the front desk a cleaning lady was sent up to our room to work things over.  Since we had to vacate our accomodations, the distraction of having visitors was a welcome event.  We decided to take a walk to the closest park to let the dog have some exercise and let the children burn of some more steam after being stuck in the car for the afternoon.

We reached our destination and had a pleasant chat in a familiar dialect.  The pleasant visit quickly turned to near tragedy.  This was to be the second time this week that I saved our dog's life.  STUPID DOG.  There were two other dogs roaming around the park this fine evening.  One was an elderly fellow.  Golden retreiver I believe.  Face grey and wise.  No owner in sight.  It turns out, he must have snuck away from home and was soon gathered up by his relieved owner.  A sweet dog with a kind temperment.  If the owners hadn't shown up, we would have certainly increased our number by one.  The other . . . well, the other dog was another story.  A thin and very prissy gent with cigarette in mouth wandered through the park with cell phone glued to his ear.  Dressed with all the trappings of those that don't particularly care for the fairer sex, he casually strolled around with an arrogant flair.  His choice of pet?  A black female pit bull.  No need for a leash.  This was a dog that that nearly met its end today by my size 10 American boot.

The dog wandered toward our pug with hair raised.  Not one to judge any living creature by it's pedigree, I allowed a sniff or two, keeping a tight hand on my dog's leash.  There wasn't so much as a fuss.  The dog strolled away and back toward it's jack ass owner.  I continued my conversation with our new acquaintences and was quite surprise when the black bitch snuck up to attack my dog.  There are many folks in the world that are quite affraid of all dogs and especially affraid of the reputation that the pit bull maintains.  I am not one of those people.  With its mouth firmly around my dogs neck and my hand already at the Pit's throat about to dispense with it's misserable life, it's dainty owner rushed up to save his dog from what I am sure he sensed was going to be a quick and brutal death by my bare hands.  The rest of my party rushed to my side and all others in the area who had witnessed the attack stood with mouths agape.

The owner of the pitbull was not even remotely apologetic.  I can't say that I am surprised.  He stayed around long enough for an examination of our dog to be sure no damage had been done and as though carried away by the breeze, he disappeared as quickly as he arrived.  This was a good choice on his part, for if he had held his ground much longer, I am affraid that my loving wife would have dispatched with him much as I was prepared to dispatch with his dog.  After 10 loving years of marriage, I know when not to cross my wife.  The look in her eyes was one which I have become familiar and do my dead level best to avoid.  Trembling dog in her arms, our visit would continue if for only a short while.  Gathering the children, we strolled back to our hotel, being reassured by our American commrades that our new lives would work out and that they wished us the best in our new adventure.  Waiving them goodbye in the American fashion (no kissing) we headed back to our room to prepare for another exciting day tomorrow . . . The first day of school . . .