Ida Nasatir writings List of honorees Louis Rose Society Jewishsightseeing home
Travel Piece by Ida Nasatir
Letter from Paris by Ida Nasatir, August
17, 1951
August17, 1951—Ida Nasatir, "A
Letter from Paris," Southwestern Jewish Press, page
6, Dear
Julia and Mac:. Everywhere a Frenchman goes, his dog is sure to follow.
Dogs go to church regularly (they politely wait outside until services are
over), they follow the children to school, they are permitted in hotels,
restaurants and cafes. They accompany their masters on the trains, where they
either sleep in the aisles or sit next to their owners on the plush seats and
avidly watch the passing scenery. (Perish the thought of a baggage car for a
traveling French dog). The "objectors" to dogs entering restaurants
are in the minority camp. It is not at all an uncommon sight to see smartly
dressed women bring their lap dogs in to lunch or dinner with them; presently
wiping the dog's mouth with their napkin and then their own. No one shows signs
of being disturbed by this. Who said a "dog's life?" Strangely enough
the profuse number of dogs seem to get along most amicably with the equally
large number of cats. These animals have some curious conventions of neutrality
in Paris; they sleep side by side, eat out of the same dishes with never a snarl
or scratch. This arrangement must be of a long standing, so long that nowadays
the animals are born to it, for one day we were watching a kitten just old
enough to toddle about, to see what it would do when a strange dog came along.
It paid no attention to the dog, and the dog respectfully walked far
around the kitten. Even the mongrels of Paris soon come to know that they are
favored. One such odd-looking hound-dog lives in the same hotel we do. He looks
like some sort of ungainly cross between hound and pointer, with huge heavy
paws. He interests me because he is the only dog I ever saw that had not a
single grain of sentiment anywhere in his make-up. He is out for revenue only,
with a pagan frankness which is at times fascinating. He pouts on no airs, but
on the contrary, he is easy going, jovial and a good mixer right up to the point
of certainty that there is nothing in it for him. He maintains this attitude
impartially towards friend and stranger; the hotel's people are no more to him
in a sentimental way than any one else; he views the whole human world without
prejudice, as a potential source of graft. Show yourself a reasonably hopeful
prospect, and he is with you, prompt to the minute; tighten up, and he marks you
off to profit and loss thenceforth and forever. He not only has to see the
goods, he is also as nearly no-account as a dog can be, and he has no more
affection than a clam for any number of quite good people who like him and do
well by him. He seems to know that all French people do well by dogs. He seems
never to forget the many times he walked with his master along the Champs
Elysees, where he saw the girls and women who dye their hair and French poodel
to match. Who said a "Dog's Life in Paris?" —Fondly, Ida Nasatir.
.