We’ve taken a big jump!!

Plagued with some guilty feelings about Buddy being an only child, I pushed through the ‘not quite unanimous’ decision to get a puppy.  Buddy has been begging for a while to get a cat, but I refused on the reasonable grounds that a) I don’t want a litter box in the flat, and b) the neighbours kitten fell four stories onto a concrete terrace, and I don’t want that hanging over our heads every time we can’t find the cat.  Plus our cat-sitting exercise for a friend of ours turned sour when our sofa was shredded and we kept finding cat poo everywhere except the litter box (the garden has since been mostly replanted).  And… to be perfectly honest… I’m a dog person.

So when Buddy switched tactics, gave up on asking for a cat, and asked if we could get a puppy… I said ‘maybe’.  And then I started to work on the hubs.  Which essentially is give me reasons why we shouldn’t versus why we should, then I’ll dispute them, then we’ll do what I want to anyway.

Now here’s the beautiful thing:  owning a dog in France is relatively easy.  You can take a dog almost everywhere, except for the supermarket and oddly, the grassy play parks. Want to head out for an apero or to a restaurant? Take the dog!  Beach restaurant?  Take the dog!  Hairdresser appointment… take the dog!  A little shoe shopping… take the dog!  You get my drift.

Back in Canada there are plenty of park spaces, but you really can’t take the dog out with you when you’re running your errands.  For this France is freakishly open-minded (to the disdain of many North Americans who just can’t believe a dog is allowed in a restaurant).

My biggest hurdle was the wise decision to get a small dog.  Not just a small dog, a toy dog. A handbag dog. One of those dogs that I swore I’d never own after having a german shepherd dog and a husky-wolf hybrid back home.

After a couple of months of researching breeds, I’d settled on a short list of 5, and showed it to the hubs so he could feel as though he had a say in the matter.  His lip curled at the first one: a maltese.  It was the unmistakable face of ‘if I have to have a dog, and I have to have a TOY dog, no way is it going to be a little fluffball’.  Nope, we needed a ‘man’ dog… or as close as we could get to it in tiny, tiny stature.

So welcome Lola Bear…. our adorable Miniature Pinscher.  King of the Toys. A breed that I never knew existed before, but am enamoured with now!  She’s small and clever and loves to run (hooray, a future running partner for me).  Even at 8 weeks old, she’s got the body of a tiny little athlete.  She can jump three times her body height without even trying… even more so if she’s trying to snatch a snack. And now that we’re just getting past that puppy biting stage, she’s just a snuggly bunch of non-shedding love. Who happens to love sleeping under the duvet.

What’s not to love?


She’s been to many restaurants already, out on a paddleboat, on a train… she’s been to the Pyrenees! If only I could train her to happily ride on my Vespa.  I’ll have to work on that 😉

She’s 6 months old now…. and Buddy can’t even remember life without her.  My little family is now complete.