FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

Ricci totally ignores the words "marcher" and "nager" (walk and swim). Her favorite words are English: "cookie," "Grandma," and "Jackie." More about favorites in today's story. Thank you for reading and sharing this post with a dog lover.

TODAY’S WORD: l’épanouissement

   : blossoming/flourishing; fulfillment

Un chien trouve son épanouissement dans les petites joies du quotidien, tout comme nous trouvons le nôtre en partageant ces moments avec lui.

A dog finds its fulfillment in the small joys of everyday life, just as we find ours in sharing those moments with them.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Ricci is about to turn four, and it is remarkable how much she has enriched our lives since she bounded into our home from a remote barn in central France. What began as a leap of faith has evolved into a profound complicité—one that makes me confront an unexpected dilemma: the deep, sometimes surprising love I feel for Ricci compared to the affection I had for our previous dogs. It feels almost taboo to even talk about un chien favori when you’ve had two lovely dogs before her. As I process these feelings, I wanted to take a moment to honor our rescapée on this, the week of her birthday.

I still can’t believe how lucky we are to have this beautiful, funny, stubborn, and adorably clumsy American Shepherd as our new family dog. Jean-Marc and I regularly remark: “It’s a good thing I found her!” While we enjoy teasing each other, the uncomfortable truth is Ricci’s fate was decided by a flip of the coin. Heads, we bring home this unknown, possibly problematic dog. Tails, we leave her…to her fate. I couldn't bear the thought of that. The decision was quickly made! 

To think I ever had doubts about how it would all work out the day we collected Ricci from a dog, cow, and cannabis farm in Auvergne. The owner was phasing out the puppy side of her business, and that’s how we ended up bringing home this blue-eyed mama. Strangely, she did not resist as we carried her away without a leash, a collar, or even the slightest idea of who we were and where she was going. Throughout the 5-hour ride home she was silent, barely moving from my lap, which soon became a pool of drool from her unspoken stress.

She perked up upon arrival! In those early days, our adoptee was so unpredictable: she tried to escape, trembled for weeks, growled at other dogs, nipped at family members, and peed all over our home. To top it off, she had the most offensive breath—haleine so bad it rivaled les Epoisses de Bourgogne, one of the stinkiest cheeses in France.

Then there was her prénom, which was difficult for me to pronounce (I've never been good at rolling those French "r"s. I thought to change her name, but given how disoriented she was, it didn't seem like a good idea).

Despite the negatives, we saw Ricci ("RRREE-CHEE") for what she was, a displaced dog who, once we earned her trust, would get better. Around that time a reader named Lin shared the "3:3:3 Rule" for rescue dogs: in three days, she would become familiar with her new surroundings, in three weeks she'd be comfortable with her environment, and in three months she'd feel secure and set in her routine. I hung on to this promise as our newest family member progressed through the various étapes. With every day that passed, we watched Ricci slowly blossom from a skittish, uncertain dog into a confident, affectionate companion. The first time her little nub of a tail wagged (you had to look closely because her queue had been docked), the moment she finally slept through the night, the day she jumped into my lap—each of these was a sign that the 3:3:3 Rule was working. It was a gradual transformation, but each step was a victory, for Ricci and for us.

Just when things were coming together, there was a crisis. Ricci panicked after a sudden bruit at the farmers market and ran off. During the chase, with Ricci fleeing beside traffic, our short life together flashed before my eyes: all the progress she'd made, all the trust we'd built...only for her to be running away when she needed me most!

When finally she landed in my arms, saved by the quick action of a few locals, I wasn't about to let her go again. It took weeks before I began to trust her. I learned our little Houdini could wiggle right out of her harness as she did when Jean-Marc brought her to the dock, to wait for him while he worked on his boat. 

Eventually, we felt confident enough to give her some slack while strolling along the boardwalk. She's gradually adapting to le grincement of delivery truck doors, the pop! of a deflating paddle board, and the whir and grumble of the big, bad streetcleaner truck.

These days she leaps with joy onto our couch (sometimes slamming into the side of it, completely unharmed if aerodynamically challenged...) where she eventually settles in the curve of my legs to fall asleep. I love her so much I could burst. "Mom," I say, seated next to Jules, Ricci cuddled in between us. "I... I think she is my favorite dog." I could only admit this to my own Mom, as saying it to anyone else seems taboo. It would be as shocking as choosing a favorite kid.

We sit in silence, stroking Ricci, remembering our beloved golden retriever, who passed away two summers ago. "I think Smokey picked Ricci out for us," I whisper. The idea is comforting and takes away some of the guilt I feel for loving Ricci so much. Suddenly, I am reminded of the day I realized I loved Smokey more than our first dog, Breizh...I remember feeling bad about that, too!

I’ve come to realize that with each new dog, my heart has grown bigger, not because one dog is better than the other, but because each has taught me to love more deeply. As someone once said: Un nouveau chien ne remplace jamais un vieux chien, il ne fait qu’agrandir le cœur.  A new dog never replaces an old dog, it only enlarges the heart. 

Seeing Ricci’s (and our own) épanouissement over the past year has only reinforced this truth. No wonder my heart is bursting with love. Joyeux Anniversaire, Ricci, et merci!

***

Jean-Marc's boat, a 1925 pointu, is the first one on the left. 

COMMENTS
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FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click here to listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French words below

la complicité = the bond/connection
le chien favori = favorite dog
un(e) rescap(é)e = a rescue dog 
l'haleine (f) = the breath
les Epoisses de Bourgogne = Epoisses cheese from Burgundy
le prénom = first name
les étapes = the stages
la queue = the tail
le bruit = noise
le grincement = the creaking
Un nouveau chien ne remplace jamais un vieux chien, il ne fait qu’agrandir le cœur = A new dog never replaces an old dog, it only enlarges the heart
l’épanouissement = the blossoming/flourishing
Joyeux Anniversaire, Ricci, et merci! = Happy Birthday, Ricci, and thank you!

REMERCIEMENTS 
A heartfelt thank you to the following readers who recently made a donation to this journal. Your support is deeply appreciated. Merci beaucoup! — Kristi

Sally B.
Ingrid S.
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Michele C.
Richard H.
Robinelle C.

Love from your Phoenix friend! --Cerelle B.

Merci, Kristi! Vos pensées sont toujours intéressantes et utiles. --Phoebe E.

Just love your style of writing and meaningful missives! They can easily connect with one’s life and provoke thinking more deeply. It is especially nice to connect often with the South of France, I love France so much! Bon Soir! --Ingrid S.

Spotted in La Ciotat centre ville: Notice the little slippers, les chaussons, dangling from the highest window. Below, can you see the smiley faces on these pink pots? Smiles here at home, as well, now that our dog is feeling better after undergoing surgery one week ago. Also, read to the end to find out who got a new job!

TODAY’S WORD: BUTÉ (bew-tay)

  : stubborn

Other French words for stubborn include têtu, obstiné, and entêté

Are you an expat in France (or anywhere outside the US) and need to file your taxes?
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A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

It all started with an unusual stream of yippy yelps, followed by moaning, crying, and whining. Next, came the overly amorous advances toward our couch pillows, les coussins, and the realization our chienne was acting very odd lately.

It must be the breed, I shrugged. American shepherds are highly vocal, intelligent, and need a lot of attention and care, in addition to loads of activité physique. Perhaps Ricci wasn’t getting enough exercise, now that Jean-Marc was away in New Zealand? My morning beach strolls and evening circles around the block were not enough to work out all that pent-up energy in our 3-year-old toutou.

But when the local male dogs began making a demi-tour along the boardwalk, bee-lining down to Ricci at the beach (their owners shouting “Reviens!”) we began to suspect our dog was in heat again.

Jackie figured it out first: “Elle est en chaleur!”

“But it’s only been two months since her last cycle,” I said, unbelieving. 

“Better take her to the doctor,” Jackie urged.

 A trip to the véto produced more than a few surprises. The first was an encounter with a reader of this journal, who revealed herself with a soft-spoken Bonjour, Kristi.  I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard my name spoken by a stranger! Stéphanie was on her way out with her cat when, on our way in, we held open the door in time to make the connection. During a few aller-retours (there were a total of 3 cats to transfer to her car) we learned we were near neighbors! 

"A bientôt pour un café!" Waving goodbye to our new friend, Jackie and I continued to the front desk, where we were led into the examination room with Ricci—in time for surprise number two and three…

Not only was our dog in heat, she was in the middle of une grossesse nerveuse—a phantom pregnancy—as evidenced by the lait maternel she was producing, and also by the échographie. The ultrasound also revealed water in her uterus. The vet explained that not only was this not safe, but it could affect fertility which made me wonder if this is why our dog—a former chienne reproductrice—was retired from breeding and put up for sale?

We made an appointment for an Ovario-hystérectomie (for a week later, the time for the "Finilac" medication to suppress or  end the lactation) and then waited nervously until Ricci came out of surgery.                                            

The past week, post-op, has been a challenge given our dog is one stubborn patient, refusing to drink enough or to "do her business" (faire ses besoins) as usual. But then this isn't business as usual, after an invasive procedure, and who wouldn't be bull-headed when struggling with a large plastic cone? While we call it an “Elizabethan collar,” the French have their own shameful synonyms for the plastic contraption designed to keep dogs and cats from licking their surgical wounds:

1) la collerette de la honte (cone of shame)
2) l'abat-jour (lampshade)

While those are amusing terms, our cone-headed convalescent is not smiling. Elle boude. She’s also refusing to come when I call her, obliging me to pick her up and haul her up and down the stairs. And, once in bed with me, she runs circles around the mattress like a bull in a china shop, her roughhousing punctuated by an abrupt KICK! as she settles beside me, finally, only to groan.

"She’s such a drama queen!" Jackie laughs, seeing through the act. Because the moment we remove the cone Ricci’s hummingbird energy instantly returns. But put the cone back on again and she reverts to a slug….

She is stubborn! In fact, I think she wins The Most Stubborn among all our feisty family members. Just to be sure, I check with Jackie… "Who is the most stubborn? Grandma Jules or Ricci?"

"Grandma."

"Really?" I’m surprised.

"Ok, who’s next after Grandma and Ricci?

"You!"

"Me?” (And here I thought I was a pushover!) "Oh well, stubborn people rock!"

"True!" Jackie laughed. Well, that makes Grandma Jules a rock star…and little Ricci a Rockette. As for the other stubborn members in our family, I'd say Max, Jackie, and Jean-Marc tie for 4th place!

Off now to cater to our doggie drama queen. One more week of the cone, er—la collerette de la honte—and Ricci can hold her silky head high again. I think I will be as relieved as my dog when that annoying, clumsy piece of plastic is finally removed. Bon débarras!

My daughter, Jackie, and Boo-Boo (one of the million terms of endearment for our dog. How many do you have for your animal de compagnie?) 

And now for some good news: Jackie has a summer job bartending in Cassis before she enters business school in the fall (à suivre...to be continued...).

COMMENTS/CORRECTIONS
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FRENCH VOCABULARY

Sound file: listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French terms below

La Ciotat = La Ciotat
le centre ville = town center
le chausson = slipper
buté = stubborn
le coussin = pillow
la chienne = female dog
l’activité physique = physical activity 
le toutou = dog (in slang)
le demi-tour = U-turn
Reviens! = Come back!
Elle est en chaleur = she’s in heat
le véto (Veterinaire) = veterinarian
à bientôt pour un café = see you soon for a coffee
une grossesse nerveuse = a phantom pregnancy 
l’échographie = ultrasound, sonogram
le lait maternel = breast milk
une chienne reproductrice = breeder
réformé(e) = retired
l’hystérectomie = hysterectomy
faire ses besoins = do your business 
la collerette de la honte = cone of shame
l'abat-jour (m) = lampshade
elle boude = she's pouting
bon débarras! = good riddance!
un animal de compagnie = pet

REMERCIEMENTS
Sincere thanks for your blog donations—every bit helps to keep the wheels of this website & its newsletter turning. As a reader in France wrote recently, after sending in a check:
"It is a very small support but as we say in French "les petits ruisseaux font les grandes rivières." Small streams become great rivers. --Odile

Tim A.
Trina S.
Linda H.
Andrée M.
Martin R.
Mazzie W.
Micheline J.

I bought this blow-up cone online but it did not work for our long-nosed dog! So it is back to the plastic collerette de la honte.

La Route des Souvenirs/Memory Lane: Picture of Mom with some delightful locals taken after Jules moved to La Ciotat from Mexico in 2018. Wish Mom luck as she returns to the clinic today for another injection. (And wish Ricci luck as she'll be on her own with her big cone while I drive Mom to Marseille.)

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TODAY’S WORD: S’ENFUIR 

: to flee

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Following last week’s missive “locals helping locals,” I could not imagine the favor would be returned so suddenly… Here is the extended version of a post shared on Instagram, after our dog escaped. 

“Partie comme une fusée” Off like a bullet

After Jean-Marc left for Le Beausset Saturday, to help a friend plant grapevines, Ricci and I strolled to our neighborhood marché paysan, to buy fruits and vegetables. I'm going to take it easy today. Make a hearty lunch, and relax this morning, I thought to myself, already feeling peaceful. In the parking lot where our farmer's market pops up weekly, I struggled with a few baskets of produce while managing my dog. I decided to briefly attach Ricci to one of the fold-out tables, where all the produce baskets were resting. Beneath a giant plane tree, I was chatting with a vendor when un bruit soudain startled my dog...

The noise sent Ricci fleeing from the table. The clasp of her harness having snapped, Ricci took off like a bullet! I watched in horror, feeling like the one who had pulled the trigger. How could I have taken that risk! Why hadn't I tied her more carefully? I dropped my panier and shot out of the municipal parking lot.

Ricci careened towards traffic, her leash bobbing along the narrow trottoir, pursued by frantic me. I heard the cars in the roundabout screech to a halt as our frightened dog cleared the two-lane road in front of La Pharmacie Saint Jean. (Oh Saint Jean--patron saint of shepherds, where were you went my little berger ran off?)

Shooting down the sidewalk, cars passing her closely on her left, the fugitive startled a few walkers who did a double-take when next they saw me flying by. Ma chienne! Ma chienne! Two hairdressers enjoying une clope in front of the salon de coiffure locked eyes with me as I darted past. I could feel their concern and picked up my step. Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I saw every detail, even if my eyes were fixed on the champs de vision into which my spooked dog had vanished.

Clipping past the surf shop, la fleuriste, and the boulangerie that just went out of business… I charged after my little dog, clunk-clunk-clunk in my daughter’s riding boots, one size too big. Barely slowing to look both ways, I shot across two lanes to reach the promenade and kept running when my legs began to slow....

Things were looking bleak.

RICCI! RICCI! RICCI! my shouting turned to muffled pleas… oh please! oh please! oh please! …God please! With Ricci out of sight, my words were more a mantra than a calling, a means to tame the terror I felt inside, to drown out other words that told me my dog might soon be crushed by a car.

I passed several walkers who were unaware of the drama unfolding and only saw a deranged woman babbling in bad French. Ma chienne s’est échappée! Ma chienne s’est échappée!

I ran a few blocks further and...there she was! Down on the beach. My heart filled with hope. This is the usual spot where we play drop and run (I drop down at a distance and Ricci charges across the beach into my arms. But just when it looked like this nightmare was over, Ricci, panicked and fled

Attrappez ma chienne! Attrapez ma chienne si vous plaît! I thundered from the sidewalk, but a dozen swimmers preparing to brave the cold January waters did not understand the deranged foreigner shouting from the boardwalk. 

Ricci shot up to the digue, disappearing yet again. I had missed my chance. Oh God I missed my chance! Would it be the only one? She was now headed to the busy roundabout where traffic picks up.  Ricci! I cried in vain.

My mind reeled: why is she running away from me--her big sheep? In the 3 months since I brought her home from the farm, she's herded me like un brébis. More than a little shepherd, Ricci is a Velcro dog, a veritable pot de colle. She is my complete shadow. I know she was spooked but why was she still running away from me? Did she feel she could no longer trust me? Did she, when I tied her to that table and next she heard a POP!!….did she mistake it for an attack?

Vous avez vu ma chienne? Ma chienne! I shouted to anyone listening. "She went that way, past the telephone booth," a man said, but my gut told me he was mistaken. Another man arrived in time to point me straight ahead. Arriving at the one-mile marker in this unexpected sprint, gathering what force remained in my 56-year-old legs, I took off again, with a new mantra gurgling out of me:

JESUS, I BEG YOU! JESUS, I BEG YOU! I didn't care if I sounded like a mad-dashing religious fanatic. Or that faith is something you keep to yourself. Nothing mattered anymore except a miracle, an intervention, the hand of God in this impossible matter.

La Dernier ligne droit-The Final Stretch

Just when all hope was lost the man from the vegetable stand sped past me on his electric trottinette. I thought he had dropped out of the race a while back, but no! Here he was and I knew, I just knew, he would find her. He spotted her another block ahead and managed, along with a few others to corral her back around until, HOLY MOLY!, she was now running to me! (Study, for a moment, the photo at the opening of this post. Right there, pile-poil where you see the umbrella, is where our ecstatic reunion happened.)

In case my little fugitive was still under the spell of panic that set her rocketing across the bay, I dropped, threw my arms out as wide as they could stretch, and grabbed her as she ran up. Whether a miracle of miracles, or a simple answered prayer, my sweet, scared dog was guided safely back to me. Oh, Ricci!

♥♥♥

Thanks to all who helped along the way-to the jogger who immediately sped up, to the merchant who dropped his vegetable cart and hopped on his trottinette, to the walkers I could barely see in the far-off distance who reached for my dog. THANK YOU! And if you are a Ciotaden, a local, and you saw a madly wild woman screaming REE-CHEE! GOD HELP ME! You now know this saga had a happy ending. The moral of the story is: no matter how cautious we are will our animals, when their innate instinct for survival kicks in, they are out of our control. The best we can do is count on the goodwill of others, who care and who take the time to help. Merci! Merci beaucoup! Even if I did not get a chance to thank you-dear jogger, dear walkers-I saw you and you are everything! Finally, please visit the Farmers market in the St Jean quarter, open weekend. Adrien, the owner's son, now runs it. But he dropped everything this morning to help us!

With 3.5 year old Ricci. (Photo taken one day before she fled.) Last week marked 3 full months since we brought Ricci home from the farm where she was destined to be a breeder. After "one or two" portées (litters), the owner put her up for sale in the classifieds. Jean-Marc found her there and the rest is history... and now a lovely future, we trust!

COMMENTS
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FRENCH VOCABULARY 

Click here to listen to all the vocabulary in French and English

pile-poil = exactly, right
s’enfuir= to flee, escape
Partie comme une fusée = off like a rocket
Le Beausset = town near Bandol
le marché paysan = farmers market
un bruit = noise
soudain = sudden
les fruits = fruits
les légumes = vegetables
le panier = basket
le trottoir = sidewalk
le berger = shepherd 
la clope = slang for cigarette
le salon de coiffure = hairdresser’s
le champ de vision = field of vision
le chien (la chienne) = dog
ma chienne s’est échappée! = my dog got loose
la digue = seawall, embankment 
la brébis = sheep
attrapez ma chienne! = grab my dog!
le pot de colle = pot of glue, a clingy dog
la trottinette = kick scooter
le Ciotaden, la Ciotadenne = one from La Ciotat 

REMERCIEMENTS/ACKNOWLEDMENTS
Mille mercis to readers sending in a blog donation for the first time, and to my returning patrons listed below. Your support keeps me going and I am truly grateful!

Nan D.
Joan S.
Mona S.
David O.
Sharon B.
Valerie Z.
Natalie A.
Edward D.
Josephine H.

Keep up the wonderful work. Merci beaucoup. --Sharon

Bonjour Kristy. J'ai suivi votre newsletter depuis des annees. Vos mots sont toujours une inspiration. Merci et bonne continuation. Nan

I really enjoy your journal and all the beautiful photos.  Thank you for sharing your life with us! Joan

Dear Kristi, Thank you for continuing to share so much of yourself and your life in France. I enjoy having an ongoing French connection. Wishing you and your dear family a healthy and not-to-stressful new year. Jo

Ricci and Jean-Marc playing Catch Me If You Can! our favorite game, even if Ricci didn't respond that time. When we panic, we forget so much--even the things we know so well!

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We are all crazy about our new dog Ricci, who gave us quite a scare recently....
Nous raffolons tous de notre nouvelle chienne Ricci, qui nous a récemment donné une sacrée frayeur.

TODAY'S WORD: Raffoler de

    : to adore, love
    : not be able to get enough of something

A DAY  IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Two weeks ago we nearly lost our little shepherd, la petite Ricci, adopted recently at the age of 3. Jean-Marc and I had been enjoying a stroll along the shore, and all the amusing dog encounters, when Ricci exchanged sniffs with a Boxer. When he got too playful our girl shot off like a bullet up les escaliers, over the boardwalk, and across two lanes of traffic!

We ran after our spooked chienne, bracing for what was around the corner by which she'd disappeared.

Incredibly, our dog had cleared two lanes of traffic before a stranger moved swiftly into action. The man swooped down, trapping her on the sidewalk in front of the pizzeria. We hurried across the street, and Jean-Marc retrieved Ricci while I grabbed the man with multiple piercings, hugging him like my own son--de toute ma force! 


Sadly, no photo of Ricci’s sauveur. Standing in for this Good Samaritan are my son Max and granddogs Izzy and Loca.

With Ricci safely in Jean-Marc's arms, we walked the rest of the way home a little stunned. What were we to do now? We would like our dog to be able to play on the beach with other dogs--but at what risk? How is our dog supposed to get her zoomies out if she can't go temporarily unleashed? There are no dog parks in our seaside town, making it a challenge to exercise our energetic American Shepherd.

We have been sorting out this dilemma over the past few weeks and we are all making good progress. One blessing that's come of this is we have discovered the Parc National des Calanques here in La Ciotat--a beautiful natural reserve where we can walk along a rocky trail to the top of the city. 

Read about this stunning natural reserve on the last page of the Feb/March edition of France Today.

After the randonné, it's time for a visit from Grand-mère (Jules has been catless ever since Lili returned next door, to live peacefully in our neighbor's armoire after three dogs moved onto our property). Jules adores Ricci, whom she visits each afternoon with her pockets filled with friandises. "Here comes the Cookie Monster!" my mom giggles, taking Ricci into her lap. We've given Jules a 3-cookie limit (per visit) for Ricci and I'm amazed she abides by the rules (if only this one time).



Regarding the dog biscuits, Ricci, elle raffole! She is crazy about them. As for us, on raffole de Ricci! We cannot get enough of her! With her soft-as-silk calico fur she's exotic and she has a very foreign--come to think of it a very French way of expressing herself: elle grogne. She is not visibly complaining or unhappy, she's "voicing" without words. You might say it's a kind of guttural dog purr....

UN CHIEN CHAT
"She doesn't seem like a dog" My mom brings up something we have all been thinking about our ethereal animal de compagnie. "I know," I say, wondering if Ricci is some kind of licorne...

"What do you think she is?" I ask Jean-Marc. After a bit of reflection, he answers "a cat."

"Ricci! I say, are you a little cat in dog's clothing?" Just imagine! One thing's sure: after the scare our pup gave us recently, she has nine lives... just like our dear Smokey had. Maybe he was a cat too? Nah, he was definitely a unicorn.


COMMENTS
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FRENCH VOCABULARY

Click to hear the French and English pronunciation

raffoler de = to love, adore, be nuts about
une frayeur = fright
une chienne = female dog
un escalier = stairs
de toute ma force = with all my strength
le sauveur = savior
la randonnée = the hike 
la grand-mère = grandmother
une friandise = a treat, a sweet 
elle grogne = she grumbles
une licorne = unicorn 

REMERCIEMENTS / ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks in advance to readers sending in a blog donation for the first time, and to my returning patrons listed below. Your support keeps the wheels of this digital journal turning, and I am truly grateful!

Caro F.
Karen H.
Monica G.

I love your stories! The one about the train journey was an absolute gem. Caro F. 

Today’s story motivated me to make another donation. I look forward to each new tale and do practice the French I see with each new post. Ricci is wonderful. So glad you have this beautiful new dog. Happy Holidays to you, Karen