French Nounou aka Dogsitter

We went away a few weekends ago to Ireland. You might know that we lived there for five years before we moved to France. You might also know how much we love the little green island and its inhabitants. Ireland was a life changer for us, no question.

So, back we went to visit friends and to tell that part of our story.

The thing was, we had to find a place for the Gurley, aka Clementine, to stay while we were gone. I've never had a dog before. I've never felt what I now am in the throes of, right up to my dog licked face. The love of a good puppy.

When she smells, I don't mind. When she begs to go for a walk in the rain, I don't mind. And when I can get away with it, I sneak her bits of meat and cheese.

The thought of putting her in a kennel made me sad. Not to mention the difficulties I was afraid of having in finding a good place for her with the whole French thing. You remember that, right?

As with most things that I fret over, it worked out better than I'd hoped. I asked a neighbor. Her little shitzu Caramel had just been to the doggie parlor so I figured she'd know a thing or two about high quality dog hotels. I was right.

She emailed me a list of choices. One of which was a nounou. Or dog nanny.

Here in France, there's a program for families so mothers (usually it's us) can go back to work and have an inexpensive, safe and quality place to send their infants and toddlers. These retired ladies (again, it just usually is) are certified to keep children in their homes.

It's subsidized, of course.

Nounous are grannies for hire who feed the kids homemade lunches, take them on errands and to the park, put them down for naps and push their strollers around the village, pacifiers firmly in mouth. The babies', not the nounous'.

Pascale, the magnificent, bubbly, Golden lover does just this, but for dogs.
She's my dog nounou. And I love her.

I called, we talked, she speaks English. Check.
Clementine and I went over for a meet and greet to see if she would fit in with Pascale's Goldie, Champagne and Pascale's mother's Bichon, Biscot.

Clementine sniffed and played with the others while Pascale and I had a coffee. It was agreed that Clementine passed the test and would be more than welcome to spend the weekend, chez Champagne.

On the morning of the drop-off, Pascale was on her way to feed a cat. She's just so lovely!

She was already minding Eliot, another very handsome Golden who was seated proudly in the back of her little car.

Champagne was there too, in the front floorboard trying to get away from the rest of them. He's eleven.
Biscot was also there, as was Lulu, another Bichon who climbed up in the back and perched there, looking out the window.

Clementine got in, said her goodbyes to me and Ma Fille, booted Biscot to the middle, and took her seat.

{Clementine and her buddies}

This tiny car had three full-sized Golden Retrievers, two Bichons (shout out Mitzi!), and Pascale. It was hilarious. But also such a good way to say bon weekend to our Gurley.

She was never really a great fan of the car, sometimes getting sick, usually refusing to clamber on in.

Now? She loves it. Can't get enough. And begs to go with me to pick up the kids from school.

Merci Pascale! You're one fabulous nounou.