I was walking Dexter, my fluffy dog who is already far more Parisienne than my wife and I combined, when I came upon a pair of pigeons. One dead and one not-so-much.
One sees pigeons everywhere in Paris. I can sit on my deck having a Galoise cigarette and look across the street and see them canoodling on balconies all along my street. Did you know that pigeons canoodle? It seems even rats with wings crave affection.
I have not googled pigeon canoodling, or even whether they pair off and mate for life so everything I write today is one hundred percent my own observations and projections onto these much maligned critters. Be honest, unless you’re Mike Tyson you’ve never really given pigeons much thought.
Same. Until I got to Paris and started seeing them together. Not in a kitte, but in sweet little pairs. Canoodling like teenagers with a crush. Sharing whatever little scraps they find together. Watching over their person (pigeon) as they slept. And yes, even grieving their loss.
As Dex…
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