I spent the fall of 2008 and the Spring of 2009 teaching English in Lyon, France.

When I first arrived, I kept seeing dogs running down the sidewalk, and I would think, “Oh how awful, a lost dog, how will it ever survive in this nasty old city?”  Most of these dogs were French bulldogs*, so in fact, I would think, “Oh how awful, a lost French bulldog.  How will such a sissy, frou frou dog survive even a day left to fend for itself against all of Lyon’s tiny French automobiles and big, deformed pigeons?”

As soon as I’d thought this thought though, the owner of the dog would make herself apparent some way or another and I’d be left to marvel at what a well-behaved dog I’d just seen.  Usually what would happen is the owner would whistle, and the dog would scamper back to its master’s side.  Sometimes what happened though, is the dog would reach a street corner, and then sit and wait obediently for its owner to catch up.  What happened the first time, though, that I saw what I believed to be a lost French bulldog, was the dog walked up to the entrance to its building, then sat down and waited for its owner to open the door.  I couldn’t believe it.  People in Lyon, a city with narrow, crowded sidewalks and terrible traffic that does not, as a rule, stop for pedestrians, walk their dogs leashless.   Not only that, but the dogs stay on the sidewalk, keep within a safe distance of their owners, and pretty much completely ignore passersby.

And France’s bizarre canine customs are not limited to leashless walking.  You know how in the U.S. dogs are regarded as filthy beasts and therefore aren’t allowed anywhere near restaurants (seeing eye dogs excepted, of course, but I assume that they are bathed with special shampoo or something)?  How even restaurants with sidewalk seating have little signs that instruct dog-owners to keep their mangy mutts on the outside of the railing?  Anastasia and I were at a cafe a couple of weeks ago in Lyon, and there was a fat old Jack Russell terrier hobbling around, lifting it’s nose toward people’s tables.  It was adorable, but disconcerting.  I have seen people take their dogs inside grocery stores with them, and just today, we saw a poodle following its owner around a book store.  It was carrying the end of its own leash in its mouth.

Perhaps the most unbelievable display of trust in a dog’s hygiene and restraint, though, that I have seen in France or anywhere, happened when, shortly after Anastasia and I moved into our Caluire apartment, we saw a woman walking with her poodle.  The poodle was wearing no leash, and it was carrying a sack of groceries.  See below for indisputable photographic proof.

I don’t know how the French get their dogs to behave so well, but if I do find out, I will make a T.V. show** about it, and it will be better than the Dog Whisperer.  I will make tons of money, and U.S. dogs will learn better manners.  Everyone will win, except for the Dog Whisperer.

 

By Joe Thurston