Adopted by one of the locals

We were hounded by a dog but we managed to shake it off.  He was the only local who understood my French, but more of that later. 

We’ve been further afield around the Dordogne, walking through the vineyards at Monbazillac, then Domme.  The latter is a nightmare in summer but we had the place entirely to ourselves.

Had a long walk around Eymet, went shopping and bumped into somebody I used to work with!  Small world.  Turns out we vicariously know half the population of Eymet, which is in the heart of what’s called Dordogneshire.

Went to Bordeaux walked by the river and had the Menu Complet, which was fine for a Carnivore, but Bunty had the fish, Herring then Whitebait, too much fishiness, and some of them still had faces, which they used to fix her with a baleful stare.  The museum of modern art was OK, the main feature was sculptures (the floats) that moved (by Robert Breer?).  Movement was their only redeeming feature but they were very slow so you had to look very closely and for some time before this became apparent, and I think the batteries had gone on some of them.

The Cathedral was spectacular; the nave was so tall it looked like it was CGI.

Visited Beaumont, very pretty surrounded by cliff lined valleys.

Next stop was Montpazier, famous for it’s spectacular views across to Chateaux Biron.  Why we chose to go when visibility was down to a few meters I’m not sure.  We walked for hours, but entirely through a mist laden upland forest.  Might as well have been in Tring, where at least the pubs would’ve been open.

Spent a day walking locally on Tuesday, but our plans were unravelled by a dog.  It was a very handsome looking sheep dog (collie), probably 3 or 4 years old, very alert and well trained.  It picked us up soon after we’d started the walk (at Forrensac) and immediately without any formalities behaved as if we were it’s long time owners.  It stayed with us for about 3 miles, if we stopped it stopped, if we diverted from the path it was on it came to find us.  Eventually we got a bit worried; the next part of the walk would take us along the D2.  It didn’t have a collar, and I had no way to get a lead on it.  So we sat and waited for it to get bored.  After half an hour of running about it came and lied down next to where we were sat and looked a picture of patience.

We decided to retrace our steps and hoped it would find it’s home.  We walked all the way back to Forrensac but there was no change in behaviour and we were still on the other side of the D2 to our house.  When we got to the village we decided to split up, if nothing else we would see who it was that it had imprinted ownership on.  I walked on the low road with Bunty taking the high road, and immediately the flaw in the plan became apparent.  I was on my own, and could happily walk home, but I had no idea where Bunty or the dog were.  Then, I heard the sound of paws on tarmac and I then knew where the dog was, but found that didn’t really help either.  The dog went into a field so I did an about turn and set off to retrace my steps and then go up the high road.  For a while he seemed to have lost me but 10 minutes later he was back.  I swore at him, although none of this was his fault and he obviously didn’t understand Anglo-Saxon.

I turned the corner and saw Bunty hiding in the bushes on the far side of the D2 (I hope nobody was watching us), and I franticly waived and gesticulated at her to get out of sight, in case the dog ran across to her and caused a pile up.  Bunty set off to the house and that was the last I saw of her till I got back .. great.

So – that left just me and the dog.  I put on my serious voice on and it obviously realised that something was amiss.  I said in a deep and sonorous voice “Rester La”, it’s ears went back, “assayez vous” which I realised was the formal salutation and might give the dog the impression that it was in some way my superior, so I quickly changed it to “Asseyez Tu” (I think I got away with it).  I set off to cross the road, and when the dog followed at a distance I growled “Non” and struck a pose somewhere between Charles De Gaul shunning Edward Heath's application for membership of the EU, and Inspector Cluseaux trying to stare down Kato.  It looked heartbroken now, but didn’t cross the road.  About a mile further on I looked round and it was still following at a distance (it had crossed the road somehow).  I tried “Non!” again, and set off with as much dignity as I could muster.  Never saw it again, but we’ve been worrying about it ever since (it would’ve made a great pet). 

We drove down the D2 yesterday and there were no burnt out petrol tankers littering the fields and no splat marks on the road.  He probably latched onto the next person he saw, who took him straight home.