Do you poop ‘n scoop? Or, rather, does your dog poop and you scoop? Because only a minority of the French do, and I wonder why that is. Do they consider it beneath them to stoop?
Here in my building, we’re in the midst of a battle with a teenage boy and his dog. It used to be an adorable puppy, now it’s a full-blown shitter. Does he have any parents? (the boy, not the dog.) Does he have any sense of civic responsibility? (again, the boy, not the dog.) And who’s to blame? The boy, the dog, or the parents? (if he has any). Or maybe the government is to blame. The French blame their government for everything, it absolves them from personal responsibility.
Last week I came home from work – in the rain and the dark – at about 7 pm. On the walkway in front of the door of my building was a massive pile of excrement. Because of the rain, it had started to liquify and was spreading like diarrhea all over the tiled walkway. And if that wasn’t bad enough, it stank to high heaven. People were coming in and out of the building and slipping and sliding (in the dark) on this stinking mess. I was so disgusted, I went up to my apartment, wrote on a sheet of paper: CECI EST ABSOLUMENT DEGOUTANT, LE PROPRIETAIRE AUSSI, went back downstairs and stuck it on the inside of the glass lobby door. (This is absolutely disgusting, the owner too.)
The next day I ran into the kid and the dog in front of the building. I accosted him. “Was that you, or rather your dog, that shit in front of the building last night?” I said, in French. (Est-ce que c’était toi, ou plutôt ton chien, qui a chié devant l’immeuble hier soir?) Of course he denied it. That was last week. Tonight, I came home from work at around 6, ran upstairs to get my shopping caddy and my winter coat (a cold front from Russia is on its way to Western Europe; this weekend and next week is forecast to be minus six Celsius), went back outside and who do I run into on the opposite sidewalk? The kid again. His dog, caught in the act of flagrant délit, was doing a crap in the middle of the sidewalk. I walked by with my caddy, and in a rare and remarkable display of self-restraint, I didn’t say a word. The kid, however, saw me coming and pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket. Good for him, I said to myself as I headed up the street, he’s becoming toilet trained.
But, no! An hour later I walked down that same sidewalk, my caddy filled with groceries, and there was a big pile of merde in that same spot. Fresh. From that dog. The kid never picked it up.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is just one example of the recalcitrant attitude of many French people, all ages. When they think no-one’s looking, they perform all sorts of uncivic acts.
And it’s not just dogs who do their business in the street. Two Sundays ago, I was standing in front of my window talking to a friend on the phone when a municipal street-cleaner, directly across the road from my apartment and standing on the sidewalk, looked both ways, didn’t see anyone, unzipped his fly and urinated into the street.
“You’ll never guess what I’m looking at,” I said to my friend on the phone.
I’ve just looked at a website for the City of Paris and burst out laughing. Under DOGS AND THEIR OWNERS, it says – Dogs have natural needs and it’s up to their owners to ensure that sidewalks don’t become public dog toilets (I’m translating). Pour cela il y a une seule solution : ramasser les déjections ! For this, there is only one solution: pick up their droppings! It is not very complicated. You only need a pair of rubber gloves and some paper towels.
Rubber gloves? You mean, like, my bright pink dish gloves?? I’ve just had a mental image of men and women alike, strolling with their dogs down Parisian streets wearing brightly-colored dish gloves. It could become a fashion trend!
All over this country you see motorcycles with vacuum cleaners attached to them, they’re called motocrottes. (the polite term for dog doo is crotte de chien.) Three motocrottes cost around 36.000 euros. Brigades of them drive around cities, sucking up dog dirt. Geez, no wonder taxes are so high in this country. The French would rather pay high taxes for a motocrotte than stoop behind the derrière of their poodle and do the dirty work themselves. That’s the truth of it. Why they believe they are superior to the rest of us is a mystery I’ve been pondering for over two decades.
Next blog post: as a pedestrian, do you stop at red lights? Because the French don’t. They truly believe that a red light does not concern them. (French pedestrians see green light, even when it’s red: study)
In 2011, I was in Calgary, Alberta for a month. I haphazardly crossed a city street and was immediately stopped by two policeman who issued me a ticket for jaywalking. When they asked me why I did what I did, I was completely stumped for an answer. And then I blurted out “I live in France.” They just stared at me. I felt foolish.