A story I wrote a few years ago, about a very likeable neighbour, his foundling dog and a slice of my life as a bordelaise.
Leila has gone back to the very early days with this choice and it is one of the editor’s favourites and we still talk about it sometimes – late at night over the whisky and that. This is what Leila said:
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I find neighbors a never ending inspiration.
We had some real characters in Bordeaux. We don’t see anybody here. Maybe just as well.
Tell us more about them. It’s never too late.
I’d feel uncomfortable writing about some of them. It wouldn’t be very flattering…
I really enjoyed this, Jane.
He was such a nice man, gentle and thoughtful. He rescued any animal that came his way.
So gentle and alive. (K)
Thank you. I hope he is. When he dies, it’s certain Vendredi and the cats will be taken to the pound. I hate to think of that.
There’s an organization in the city that tries to find homes for the animals of people that die. They can’t find or do it for all of them though.
I wish they did that here but nobody wants those ancient smelly little dogs that old ladies have or their ancient moth eaten cats. I feel so sorry for them. They have a miserable boring life and then nothing.
There are many Americans who have a mission to rescue animals. More than, for instance, unwanted children. Animals are easier I guess.
A cynic might say if the rescued animal starts to be problematic, you can always deal with it the way its previous ‘owner’ did. Children are harder to dispose of.