Back to the subject: France

Wow, the week went by fast. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Our friends Chris and Tony left last Sunday afternoon after a four-day visit. Collette fell ill on Sunday evening and was gone by Tuesday afternoon. Then another friend from California, Susan, arrived on Wednesday. Now it's Saturday already.

I was describing our sightseeing with Tony and Chris before I was so rudely interrupted by the realities of life and death. On Thursday, we had toured around looking at the river, which was out of its banks as a result of the runoff when the 5 or more inches of snow we had the previous Saturday melted.

On Friday afternoon (March 10) we decided to drive over to Montrichard, 10 miles down the river from Saint-Aignan. My plan was just to drive through on the way to Chenonceaux, but when we got there we discovered it was market day. We found a place to park and walked through the farmers' market. I bought some vegetables (cabbage, brussels sprouts) and some rillettes d'oie — potted goose meat is the best translation that I can come up with for that term.

Chris and Tony weren't sure they knew what rillettes were. They are in fact a meat preparation — a potted meat that you eat the way you eat pâté. That is, you spread the rillettes on bread and eat them accompanied by little sour pickles (cornichons). Rillettes are a speciality of the Loire Valley. They can be made from pork, goose, or duck.

In the market, which was extensive, a well-dressed older gentleman came up and started talking to us as we shopped the food stalls. He was just being friendly and was curious where we were from. He made some small talk and little jokes about how he couldn't bring himself to eat the turnips and rutabagas we were examining because that was all his family had to eat during World War II, when he was growing up. It's a story I've heard a thousand times in the 35 years I have spent living and vacationing in France. Then the man's wife joined us and told us that she had lived in America for a few years, in "Peetsboorgue". That's in Pennsylvania, I believe. She said her son still lived in Pittsburgh and was married to an American woman. I told them I lived just outside Saint-Aignan, and they said they lived in Saint-Aignan too. I don't know if I'll ever run into them again.

We then drove over to Chenonceaux to see if we could do the river walk along the south bank of the Cher, along the edge of the forest and up to the château de Chenonceau itself. Well, we couldn't, because of flooding. The river was high, and the trail along the bank was completely under water. Thwarted, we drove back home and had some lunch (can't remember what).

After lunch, we decided to go for a walk in Saint-Aignan. We parked in the lot down by the river and walked up a big set of steps to the grounds of the château.

The Saint-
Aignan château is perched on top of a big bluff over-
looking the river valley. The picture on the left shows part of the view from up there. That's the only bridge at Saint-Aignan. It's an old one. On this Friday afternoon there was quite a bit of traffic on it. You can see that the river is high and quite a bit of land is under water. At least I can see that.

The château itself is private. The owners live in it, and it is never open to visitors. But the big courtyard in front of the building is open to the public, so you can get an up-close look at the château exteriors and good views of the river and town.

Here's a picture of the main part of the château. It was built during the Renais-
sance, about 500 years ago.
It replaced an older, Medieval château that was fortified and that had been built around the year 1000. Quite a few of these "smaller" châteaux in the region are still in private hands and are still occupied by their owners.

Below is a view of the ruins of the older fortified château that adjoins the more "modern" buildings on the site.

Standing on the château grounds — in the main courtyard — you overlook the rooftops of old Saint-
Aignan. The town isn't very big (population 4,000 or so) and the old section is just a small part of the built-up area these days, but as you see it is quite dense and picturesque.

The château is about a mile-and-a-half from La Renaudière, where our house is located. A big part of the land between our hamlet (or neighborhood) and the château to the east is given over to an extensive park that belongs to the château owners and is closed to the public.


Most of the rooftops are red tile, but some are black slate. And some
of the outbuildings have sheet-metal roofs that are pretty rusty.

Be sure to click on the pictures to see larger views and more details. More on Saint-Aignan will follow...

Indulge me one more time...

Here is the picture of Collette that I wanted to post a couple of days ago, but the Blogger software wouldn't cooperate.

I took this about two hours before Collette disappeared. She was serene, I think. We had taken her outside and laid her on the ground so that she could feel the earth beneath her and the warmth of the afternoon sun on her coat. Walt says it makes her look sad, but I'm not sure.

Collette, March 14, 2006, at La Renaudière

We had just had the dog groomed a few days earlier, so she looked especially pretty this week. Groomed or not, Collette was my favorite photography subject. She was also the main reason for my walks and photo sessions out in the vineyards behind La Renaudière. It's the end of an era for me. And the beginning of a new one, of course.

Somebody pointed out that in my writing about the veterinarians it was not clear why I sometimes said "he" and sometimes said "she". There were two vets involved, a male vet on Monday and a female vet on Tuesday. That's why.

I'll stop now. I'm in the process of reserving an apartment in Paris over the web so that Walt and I can go spend a week in the city soon. It will be fun to wander the streets for a few days. I always feel younger and more optimistic when I'm in Paris.

Collette est partie

Collette died in the car on the way to the vet's for her appointment this afternoon. Or in Walt's arms as he carried her in. We had to wait a few minutes when we arrived, and decided to wait in the car with the dog. I went in and told the receptionist we were there. Then I went back out to the car and Walt said Collette was taking a breath only every 15 seconds or so. The breath was going out of her.

The vet came out to the car, and when Walt lifted Collette to take her inside, the vet, Mme G., said she thought the dog was already dead. Walt carried her into the examining room and laid her on a table. The vet listened with a stethoscope and then touched Collette's eye. There was no reaction. She's gone, the vet said. "You don't have to feel you've rushed things," she told us. There was no need for euthanasia.

Collette's body will be incinerated and we will get the ashes in a couple of weeks. We will scatter them out in the vineyard behind la Renaudière, where Collette spent some of her best days.

I wanted to post a picture of Collette that I took today, but Blogger doesn't seem to be accepting pictures right now...

Memories of a happy dog

Here is how I will remember Collette. It was July 27, 2005, between 6:00 and 6:30 a.m. We were out for our regular morning walk. Instead of walking out into the vineyard, Collette wanted to walk down the hill on the paved road to the rue des Laurendières.

The poor dog had suffered through a bad episode a month earlier. It was probably a mild stroke. Our neighbors had an outdoor party on June 25, I remember, and Collette was invited. Afterward, a friend who loved dogs told us that Collette was a real zombie (same word in French) that afternoon. She was stumbling around in a fog. The friend was afraid Collette wasn't long for this world, even back then.

Be that as it may, a month later Collette had recovered completely. She had gotten her joie de vivre back. She was running, chasing, and playing. It was fun to take her out on walks, because she obviously enjoyed it so much.

* * * * *
Chasing a deer

It was about 6:15 a.m. and Collette and I were out for our morning walk.

We went down the hill to the "street" called la rue des Laurendières.

As you can see, it isn't paved.

The sun was already high above the horizon, but clouds were building.

Showers and even thunderstorms were predicted.

I hoped we wouldn't get wet before we got back home.

Just before I got to the big walnut tree by the road,

something caught my eye as I looked off to the left.

It was a chevreuil out in the field. Chevreuils are a kind

of little deer, called roe deer, that we have around here.

I don't think they exist in America, but they do in England.

I think this was a young deer, because it was curious and

not fearful. I don't think it had seen Collette yet, just me.

I don't know if it was Collette or the deer that saw the other first.

But the deer didn't stick around at that point.

It went bounding over the field, headed for the woods.

Collette, ever the optimist, went bounding after it. She forgot

about old age and rumatism for just a minute. But the deer

had already disappeared into the woods.

Where did it go?

Do you think I can get through this thicket and find it?

Uh-oh, somebody's calling me. My hearing is still good,

even though my joints ache. One day I'm going to catch one of those deer, you just wait.

Hey, did you see me run after that deer?

I almost caught it. It got away, but the chase was fun.

Thanks for waiting for me.

Just a little way down the road, we saw this cat.

It saw Collette. Then it turned and ran.

Collette turned around and looked at me.

She wasn't going to waste energy running after a cat

when there were deer to be chased.

* * * * *

Collette loved to "rub on the bushes" — she did it in San Francisco, and she continued doing it
by rubbing along the hedge outside our front door nearly every day here in France.
This picture was taken on July 4, 2005.

Rubbing on the bushes in the sunshine, with a smile...

And this one was taken on March 4, 2006 — ten days ago.

Rubbing on the bushes in the snow, trying to lick a flake off her nose...

The final veterinarian appointment is scheduled for 5:15 this afternoon.