1986: My Happy Life in Provence

Chapter 541 The Black Blanket!

Ronan and his group arrived at the exhibition at noon.

Although the loudspeaker kept playing fast-paced music reminding everyone—ladies and gentlemen, lunch break is over!

But the entire football field was still filled with a Provençal languor—how could you not take a midday nap in the summer?

Some stall owners slept sitting up, some lying down, and some even sleeping with their dogs. Most of them slept more soundly than the dogs in their cages.

Zoe led Ronan for a while and saw a few local dog breeds that interested them, but the owners weren't ready for the afternoon's work and had to leave disappointed.

"Come sit down for a bit, this weather is unbearably hot." Freddy called out to Ronan and Zoe, who wanted to go further in, and led them to a small folding table in a corner.

He squeezed his large buttocks into the mismatched moon chair with difficulty, then said to a young man who was dozing off:

"Hey buddy, give us five bottles of beer, ice cold."

The young man swallowed half of his yawn, revealing an enthusiasm that clashed with that of the surrounding stall owners:
"Won't you order something to eat, sir? Pizza, sandwiches, buttered bread, salads—we have everything. I recommend you try the sandwiches; a lady just bought eight at once and said they were even better than the ones at Apte Restaurant."

Freddie shrugged:

"Sorry, buddy, we've already had lunch."

"How about some cheese with beer? My mom's homemade goat cheese."

Freddie pointed to the backpack on Ronan's lap:
"We brought fruit, so we only need 5 bottles of beer, thank you."

"Okay, sir." The young man finally left.

Along the way, Ronan saw many similar rest areas by the roadside and thought they were specially set up by the organizers for tourists to rest. He thought to himself, "The 'service' is definitely different after paying for a ticket. Who said the organizers are unprofessional?"

So it's an open-air 'restaurant'!
"Why are so many people selling food here?" Ronan asked Freddy as he took out the pre-washed fruit and placed it on the table. "We've only walked through a small area, and we've already seen at least five or six places like this. That's too frequent."

Freddie took a fresh peach, chewed it, and sank into his chair, enjoying it as he said:

"This is Provence, man. What activity can be separated from 'eating'? The only problem is that the food here isn't very good, and the dog smell is too strong. Otherwise, people would definitely mistake this for a food market, I swear."

Zoe's eyes darted around:

"I saw someone holding cotton candy and ice cream, and I also saw a glass that looked like it contained rosé wine. We'll keep an eye out for it later."

"Does anyone sell rosé wine?" Ronan asked curiously, looking around.

Has rosé wine seeped into this area?
However, it's not impossible.

Ronan's rosé wine stall is doing very well at the Mena village market, and has been featured in the Mifal Guide for two consecutive years.

Freddie was handing out beer to everyone, and in a joking tone, he said to Ronan:
"Look, we've found another great opportunity, haven't we? Provence hosts hundreds of events during the summer, and food is an integral part of all of them. These are all opportunities for Stella."

Ronan took the beer and took a sip:
"This year is going to be tough. Let's wait until next year. This year, even the existing supply channels aren't enough."

After attending the dog show in Mena Village, Ronan is about to go to Châteauneuf-du-Pape for an important wine auction. He hopes that after this auction, St. Strasbourg can safely implement the 'quota system' and successfully overcome the inventory shortage crisis.

"ladies and gentlemen!"

The sudden sound from the loudspeaker startled Ronan so much that he almost threw his beer away. The surrounding insults were incessant, clearly indicating that everyone was on the verge of having a heart attack from the noise these past few days.

But the curses and insults couldn't stop the voice from becoming increasingly agitated and excited.

"Aren't you all eager to get started? I hereby announce that the elegant dog posture contest and the best dog nose contest this afternoon will begin in 5 minutes. Good luck and have fun!"

However, from some perspectives, the loudspeaker did play a positive role—the village of Mena finally woke up from its midday nap, and the dog owners stretched and opened their eyes.

Suddenly, a 'black blanket' jumped onto Ronan and the others' table and devoured all the fruit on their table with lightning speed, giving them no time to react.

The dog appeared suddenly, and the noise it made while eating was quite frightening. It could devour half a plate in one bite. The two ladies screamed and ran away. Ronan tried to chase it away, but the 'black blanket' had already finished all the fruit and fled the scene, leaving them with only a dashing silhouette.

“God, what kind of dog was that?” Feng Zhen patted her chest and said, “Was it only three seconds from the moment it appeared to the moment it ran away? I didn’t even get a clear look at what it looked like.”

Luo Tianhai had just been protecting Feng Zhen and hadn't paid much attention to the fugitive's appearance, only glancing at him a few times out of the corner of his eye.

"It looks like the same breed as the Marseille? But it's black."

Artists have a slightly better ability to observe and capture things than ordinary people, Zoe said, looking in the direction the criminal had fled:

"Its fur was too long, messy and tangled, and covered in dirt. Maybe that's not how it was originally."

The commotion attracted the young shop owner, who, upon hearing Ronan and the others' ordeal, said through gritted teeth:
"It's that griffin! It's stealing food again!"

There are many dog ​​breeds with "Griffon" in their names, such as the Brussels Griffon, the Dutch Griffon, and the 'ancestor' of the Marseille Griffon, all of which are wire-haired dogs.

The French refer to the Griffon without the prefix, usually meaning a new breed developed in the 17th century by crossing Dutch Griffons and French Pointers, commonly known as the native Griffon.

Unlike the 'ancestor' of Marseille, the Cordal Griffon, which prefers watery areas in the north, the native Griffon can adapt to the hot climate of Provence and is therefore very common there.

This is also one of the dog breeds that people in Provence love to keep, because of their sensitive sense of smell, they are often used to hunt small prey such as quail and hare.

Upon hearing that the thief was actually a local Griffin, Ronan asked his companions uncertainly:

Does it have a tail?

Griffons are neutral hunting dogs, slightly larger in size. To make them more agile when hunting, local hunters usually dock the tails of the puppies.

Freddie clapped his hands:

"It has no tail! I noticed it was pointing its chrysanthemum at me just now."

Hearing this answer, everyone's hatred for the 'thief' lessened.

Zoe said with some heartache:

"It used to have an owner, but it got lost for some reason."

"Maybe it was abandoned by its owner! This guy has such a terrible personality!" the stall owner said indignantly, clearly this guy had stolen things more than once.

"That's even more pitiful," Zoe said, looking around worriedly.

Ronan put his arm around her shoulder, not wanting her to overthink things.

"Let's continue to see the exhibition."

Zoe nodded:

"it is good."

Ronan can't comment on whether the organizers are professional or not.

Because he had only seen this one dog show, he didn't know what other dog shows were like.

But he was certain that the vendors who came to the dog show were all quite 'professional'.

During lunch break, those folding tables are used for visitors to rest and eat. In the afternoon, they are transformed into an "armory" containing dozens of guns.

"Ronan, come and see this!" Freddie couldn't resist the sight of guns, even though he never hunted.

Of Louis's friends, only Alain would occasionally go hunting in the winter, but that didn't stop the men from liking guns.

Ronan spotted a matte black shotgun at a stall. He desperately needed a working gun to replace his two antique fire pokers.

Strangely enough, even outside of hunting season, Ronan wanted to buy guns and equipment, dreaming about how he would make a name for himself once the hunting season began.

But when the hunting season actually arrived, he didn't want to go anymore, probably because there wasn't a single normal hunter around him—they were all a bunch of 'scammers' who used hunting as an excuse to eat and drink.

However, things might be a little different this year. Lucas has moved back to Lourmaran, and he's a true 'hunter'.

If it weren't for the sudden cold snap last year that dampened everyone's spirits, Ronan would definitely have gone hunting in the mountains with Lucas.

"How much is this gun?" Ronan was very fond of the shotgun.

"3500 francs, and I can give you 50 bullets," the shopkeeper said enthusiastically.

Freddie reminded him from the side:
Do you have your hunting license with you?

The "Official Handbook for Hunting License Exams: Theoretical Questions" clearly stipulates that the buyer must provide their own license when purchasing a gun.

"Why didn't you remind me to bring it?" Ronan put down his shotgun with regret and vented his anger on Freddy.

Freddie rolled his eyes:

“My dear friends, if I hadn’t ‘strongly’ invited you, you wouldn’t have wanted to come at all, so why would I have bothered to ask you to bring your license?”

The gun vendor, a woman in her forties, overheard Ronan and Freddie's conversation and began recommending other things to them:

“Young man, look at this ‘bronze ring’ and this ‘iron meteor’. These can be purchased without a hunting license.”

In the late 1980s, Japanese conglomerates entered the French market, and Japanese films and animations also came into the view of the French.

In 1986 and 1987, the 'Japanese ninja' trend swept through Provence on a small scale, and it was clear that the owner wanted to capitalize on this.

Freddie laughed so hard he almost fell over, recommending even more bizarre weapons to Ronan:

"Yeah, who says you have to use a gun to hunt? You can't hit anything anyway, so what difference does it make what you use?"

Ronan didn't want to argue with a child, so he said to his dear Zoe:
"Let's go watch the game."

Once I hunt a wild boar this year, you won't get a single piece!
There are two competitions this afternoon – the graceful dog posture competition and the best dog nose competition.

The two matches are held at the same time in two adjacent venues, so as long as you choose a good viewing spot, you can see both matches at the same time.

Ronan and his friends were lucky; they actually found a great place.

"It just means there weren't enough viewers. Otherwise, how could we have gotten such a great spot?" Freddy lay half-reclined on the grass, holding a pink wine glass in one hand and a piece of country cheese in the other, looking completely relaxed.

They found a rosé wine stall in the football field, and the owner was using Stellar wine, which deserves encouragement.

Since we bought wine, we had to have some food with it, so we had a picnic experience on the football field beforehand.

Zoe is holding an ice cream cone:
"There are indeed few people; there are more people watching than playing the game."

In the competition waiting area, there were forty or fifty groups of contestants and their dogs waiting to be tested.

Seeing so many dog ​​owners and their dogs in the same frame, people quickly came to some conclusions: where there is a dog, there is an owner.

Dog owners and their dogs often develop some resemblance over time, though it may vary.

At this dog show, they found many real-life examples.

"Look how much that lady looks like her Basset Hound."

Basset Hounds are another 'brother' of Beagles and Foxhounds; the three of them together represent the relationship of cubs, youths, and adults.

After attending today's dog show, Ronan could no longer bring himself to say "beagle" when he saw that face. Today he had seen at least seven or eight different kinds of dogs with the same face.

"Haha, why do male owners with thick eyebrows and big beards all like to keep Scottish Shepherds?"

"How many times has a small, thin person been followed by a fast-running little dog?"

The elegant dog pose competition is divided into male and female groups.

The champions of both competitions satisfied the 'stereotypes' summarized by Ronan and others.

The women's champion was a beautiful blonde woman wearing a white shirt, white shorts, and white cowboy boots, leading a white miniature poodle on a white leash.

Even though the ladies in skirts and flats were constantly scrutinizing her with critical eyes—a criticalness they usually only displayed when grocery shopping—the woman remained supremely elegant, just like her miniature poodle, even sipping her juice with a delicate, effeminate gesture.

The men's champion was even more 'elegant'; the competition was dominated by a short, stout man and his half-human-sized Great Dane, who seemed to have no rivals.

The dog was very clean, its back shiny black. The owner was wearing a black fitted T-shirt, black skinny jeans, and black cowboy boots. The dog wore a heavy black collar, and the owner wore a rope-like necklace and a similar bracelet on their wrist. Perhaps by oversight, the Great Dane wasn't wearing a bracelet.

It was watching with politeness and interest the little dogs coming and going from under its crotch.

"How long do you think that Great Dane's good temper will last?" Freddie joked with Ronan. "Is it possible that it will suddenly pounce and eat one of them in one bite as a warning to others? Those puppies are too annoying!"

Ronan shrugged:

"That depends on whether its owner is that kind of person. Have they forgotten that like dog, like owner?"

Feng Zhen patted Ronan and Freddie on the shoulder, reminding them to keep an eye on the situation on the other side:

"These dogs are so bad! Not a single one of the dozen or so succeeded!!"

The most intelligent dog nose competition is simple and straightforward.

Small bushes were randomly placed on the sports field, and the prize of the competition—a live quail—would be hidden anywhere among them.

The dog's task is to find the quail, but not to kill it; it can only point out where the quail is hiding. Whoever takes the shortest time wins.

This competition sounds interesting, doesn't it?
It's a complete simulation of a hunting scene, much more interesting than watching dogs walk like cats.

But these hunting dogs, like their owners, were unreliable when it came to hunting, and Ronan only looked at a few before moving on to the other side.

For example, this Begi sheepdog is the most famous sheep herder in Provence. Zoe had her eye on this kind of dog before and wanted to bring it back to play with Huhu.

Perhaps it was bored, or perhaps it was annoyed at being sent out to do such a silly thing, it lifted its leg and peed in the bushes, then ran back to its owner.

This is probably the umpteenth dog to "give up" today. The person in charge of hiding the quail hid the poor quail in a new place so that the next contestant could take the stage.

One by one, the dogs that could appear stopped at the edge of the empty bushes where quails had just been hidden, raised their heads, tentatively stretched out their paws, and then... failed.

"This quail has a strong smell," Ronan said, both amused and exasperated.

You might say they failed, but it doesn't seem so. Many dogs found the quail's previous hiding place, but the quail moved from one thicket to another, leaving its scent along the way. Perhaps now the whole area smells like quail to them, and they are confused.

The next contender, another iconic breed from Provence, the Brac Auvergne Shorthair, went on strike.

Ignoring its owner's howls, it squatted down in front of Ronan and the others who were having a picnic, and used pleading eyes to indicate that it wanted a piece of melon.

Zoe turned to Ronan and said:

“I’ve given up on buying the Black Auvergne Shorthair. It’s too greedy. I just saw it begging for bread from a few other spectators.”

Ronan offered some words of comfort, which put him in a good mood:
"We're doing very well with our two dogs now."

Suddenly, a piercing scream erupted from the competition venue.

A black blanket appeared as if by magic, darting into the bushes, snatching the poor quail, and flying away as fast as it could.

Ronan and Zoe exchanged a glance and burst into laughter simultaneously.

"I'm so curious, who was its previous owner?"

Why is this dog acting like this?
They've come to steal food again!
(End of this chapter)