Just incorrigible.
Sipping a fruity cocktail in a seaside cafe, looking out over the gentle waves, your eye is caught by a coquettish eye, a perky little walk, an undulating hip.
I’m talking, of course, about dogs. Along one of the beaches in Dinard there is a row of cafés below the casino, overlooked by glorious mansions from a bygone age. A wide path follows the coastline, populated by joggers and dog walkers. We were enchanted by the parade of ridiculously sweet French pups who trotted by, many of whom looked like their owners. No, this is not a myth. I would have shown you photos but the French authorities frown on publishing strangers’ photos. Suffice to say it kept us smiling.
My husband pointed out that in the old days he would have been looking at the pretty girls. These days he is distracted by the cute canines.
Sigh. The ravages of time. Lmc
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