Animals of Paris

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 104, 23 July 1927, Page 24

Animals of Paris

A Note on Donkeys, Billy Goats and Pet Monkeys . . .

(Written for THE SUN by

CAPTAIN GEORGE CECIL.)

ALL the world must have heard of the Champs the pride of Paris, which, according to noted authorities, are singularly attractive. Hyde Park, London, the Eden Gardens in Calcutta, the Cinnamon Gardens in Colombo, the Public Gardens in Jeypore: none, despite their undoubted lure, can touch the combined park and garden which is the joy of Paris. And the animal life of the Champs Elj r s6es is a delight: one aever tires of studying it. First and foremost come the donkeys, bestridden by the little people. Staid' and elderly animals are they, and several of them have their regular clients. . . “What, my grey donkey with the wall-eye is not free? Truly, this is too annoying,” declares Toto, aged six, with many an expressive French gesture. . . . “Take another just as good.” “Ah, no! Me, I have been hurried through my lunch

by nurse so as to be first in the field, and this is how you treat an old justomer!” . . . Fortunately for the ;ood of his pocket, the proporietor of the mokes is not wanting in tact, and he readily finds a way out of the difficulty. ... “I am indeed desolated to have mistaken the hour at which Monsieur signified his intention of honouring me with a visit. But will not Monsieur, who is so good a judge of donkeys and so fine an equestrian, try my new purchase—an exceptionally valuable animal of Syrian descent . . . .” “Not so bad,” says the

petulant sportsman, critically running his eye over the steed’s points. . . . “Truly your choice does you infinite credit.” . . .

Some of these donkeys must have been plying for hire almost since the Champs Elys6es were first laid out. Sleek and well-kept, they lead a pleasant existence. Raymond (called after M. Poincar6), Sara (the late Sara Bernhardt was its godmother), Mimi, ind the others, may be on the go most the day; but the pace is not killrag. . . . The careful proprietor does not encourage anything more violent than a gentle amble, since heating exercise tends to leanness. Thin donkeys seldom appeal to the knowing connoisseur; besides, they jog the rider.

To very tiny children the goat carriages are the chief attraction. The conveyances (of the same time-hon-

oured make as those to be found at the English seaside) are drawn by hoary goats, who, like the donkeys, have adorned the Champs Elys6es for a considerable time. There is, in fact, one ancient billy, snow-white and blue-eyed, who was showing signs of age before the war. Lately, he has grown younger, and each passing week renders him giddier and giddier. These engaging creatures are as tame as Mary’s little lamb. Used to being fed by their hirers, they will come to anyone who holds out a hand, expecting to find in it some luscious tit-bit. Should the hand be empty, the disappointed goats’ expression is a mixture of contempt and reproof, a playful butt, as a hint that practical jokes are considered odious, being thrown in. The billies and nannies of the Champs Elys4es must not be trifled with. . . .

The carriages are constructed to hold two or four passengers. The really chic infant takes a carriage all to itself, and, with the observant nurse marching alongside, drives in solitary state up and down the broad walk.

Except that they include vast numbers of the most astonishing mongrels ever pupped, the Champs tykes are much the same as those to be seen in other countries. The handsome chien berger (sheep-dog) is the most popular, though the übiquitous French bull-dog—an engaging pet—is as sought after as any. Toy-dogs of all shapes and breeds scamper up and down the lawns; and if there is the slightest chill in the air the shivering little Azor wears a great coat. The fanciful garment usually is embroidered with the initials of the proud owner, who, if of that highly objectionable class the nouveaux riches, may cause the border to be heavily braided- with gold. Much care also is bestowed* upon the colour-scheme of the wrap, a tint which harmonises with the pampered wearer’s charms being chosen. One may, for example, find a fawn pug decked out in an indigo-blue coat, while a black garment edged with cerise ribbon was recently seen adorning the overfed body of a selfconscious white poodle. If the dog’s mistress is a marquise, the coat may be finished off with a coronet. This form of snobbishness turns less highly-placed fanciers green with envy.

As to the mongrels, they are absolute horrors, without a single redeeming feature. Still, their fond possessors cherish them, lavishing upon Coco and Fifi every possible term of endearment. . . . “My sweetest! My roseleaf! Art thou, then, fatigued? Wouldst thou go to byebye on mother’s lap?” For some years, an elderly Parisian has spent hours every day feeding the birds, which follow him the whole length of his walk, circling around him and perching on their benefactor’s shoulder. The guides point him out as one of the sights of Paris, and the Republic has bestowed upon this charitable person the little red button of the Legion of Honour. He deserves it more than do many of those who are honoured for nothing. The pigeons are said- to be the fattest ever seen. As a matter of cold fact, those which strut about the Piazza di San Marco in Venice are equally plump and prosperous-looking But the Parisians will not allow this —doubtless because they dislike the Italians. . . .