The French Word "Renifler" & Getting my Husband and My Dog to Speak the Same Language
Thursday, March 24, 2022
This post begins and ends with pictures of (or around) our city's historic Cinéma Lumière. Corrections to this journal are helpful and appreciated.
Today's Word: renifler
: to sniff, smell, snuffle
French Audio/Listening: Click the link below to hear Jean-Marc pronounce the French words in today's story. Then scroll down to the vocabulary list to check your French comprehension.
Improve your French and lose yourself in the local countryside with this classic by Marcel Pagnol. A must read!
A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE... by Kristi Espinasse
Yesterday, en fin d'après-midi, Jean-Marc and I went to the movies. Marcel Pagnol's Le Temps des Secrets was playing at the historic Lumière Cinema here in La Ciotat, so my husband and I made a rare date of it.
Scenes from the nearby Massif du Garlaban relaxed us and the film was a welcome divertissement from various blèmes here at home. While each member of our family is dealing with their own struggles the good news is all three generations are currently getting along ici au bercail. (One new item in my human relations tool belt is a book about relationships and how speaking another's "love language" helps to improve communication and fosters closeness.)
How to speak to me...
After our movie date, we returned home and went for a neighborhood walk with our dog. My husband is not used to walking Smokey but he's making an effort and that really "speaks" to me. But when our golden retriever stopped to sniff the various weeds along le trottoir, Jean-Marc abruptly tugged the leash, "Allez, Smokey!" Move on!
An animal's sense of smell is so keen, so precise, there is a very specific word for it in French: le flair (as in "Le flair des chiens est supérieur au nôtre."). If only my husband understood that le reniflement, or sniffing, is part of the pleasure our dog gets from these outings. On second thought, surely Chief Grape, who's in the business of sniffing, understood...
Speaking my husband's language...
"Chéri," I began, "weeds are like wine to Smokey!" Jean-Marc looked a little confused and maybe I was too: Smokey doesn’t like wine but he loves to sniff weeds. And JM doesn’t care to sniff weeds but he loves wine. Is that clear, Dear Reader? Are you and I speaking the same language? Now, where was I? Oh yes, trying to get my husband to see things from our dog’s point of view:
“...weeds (to Smokey) are like wine (to you). Other dogs have "visited" those grassy patches and left their scent which is brimming with information that only a furry connoisseur could appreciate!"
At the next mauvaise herbe (a flowering dent-de-lion, this time), Smokey slammed on the brakes again, sniff, sniff, sniff. "That may be a ‘Chardonnay’," I pointed out. “Think of all the smelling notes or aromas!” Half a block later and our dog screeched to a halt at a patch of blossoming fumaria, "Ah! That must be a ‘Merlot’... with hints of plum? vanilla? cedar?" (And for Smokey, notes of Chihuahua? Bulldog? Beagle?)
Speaking our dog’s language...
By the time we rounded the corner, on our way home, my husband seemed to be catching on. "What's that one?" I quizzed when our twelve-year-old toutou plunged his nose into a bunch of sticky lichwort.
"Un Pommeral!" JM replied. (A Pomeranian! Smokey agreed, in his own dialect.)
"And that one?" I asked, pointing to another group of weeds.
"Ça, c'est un Pouilly-Fuissé!" (and un Bichon-Frisé, according to Smokey's estimates, sniff, sniff). Très bien! Our family members were relating to one another via a common interest: l’odorat. And now there would be no need for further comparisons in order to get my husband to understand my dog's need to renifler or sniff (i.e. no need to tell Chief Grape that the next time he goes to a wine fair, he should wear a clothespin on his nose and hurry on past all his favorite booths)! Man and dog were now speaking the same language (and man's wife happy now!).
"Thanks for the movie and for the walk," I said, when our trio reached our front gate. I'm looking forward to more dog walks with my man, and to turning more weeds into wine.
P.S. My human relations tool belt continues to widen and for once that’s a good thing!
Smokey and the fumaria blossoms ("la fumeterre" in French). Here is a fascinating article about a dog's sense of smell.
Post note: The devotional JM and I are reading is based on Gary Chapman's book The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts
fin d'après-midi = late afternoon
le divertissement = entertainment, diversion
le blème (from "problème") = worry
le bercail = home ("fold")
le trottoir = sidewalk
Allez! = Go on!
le flair = sense of smell
Le flair des chiens est supérieur au nôtre = Dogs have a better sense of smell than we do (Wordreference.com)
le reniflement = sniffing
Chéri = Dear
la mauvaise herbe = weed
une dent-de-lion = dandelion
le toutou = slang for “dog”
très bien! = very good
l’odorat = sense of smell
Vocabulary not included in the soundfile (added later, during editing)
un bichon-frisé = a popular dog breed in France, photo here
The Cinéma Lumière movie theater. Our city is known as "the birthplace of cinema" after the Lumière Brothers (pictured) came here to create the first motion picture ever made, "L'Arrivée d'un train en Gare à La Ciotat". Also located here in La Ciotat, The Eden Theatre, known as the first cinema in the world.
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For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety