Follow your instinct

Unusual encounter - Part 1

It was a cold winter Sunday of November 1974. The Mass had just ended and I was coming out of the parish church. Outside, people were gathered in small groups, talking to each other, a customary gathering after the mass, I suppose. Acquaintances, family members, or just friends were greeting each other exchanging their experiences of the week, before regaining their way back home.

I was new in the community and had no friends, not even acquaintances. It was just a week since I had moved to Montreuil. As a matter of fact, I had arrived in France for the first time just a few weeks earlier.

It was useless standing there because I had no one to talk to.

It was cold. It was my first winter in France. I decided to stay a few steps away from the crowds discretely and wait and see if someone would approach me. No one did, so I decided to walk away from there and take the footpath until the pedestrian crossing to go on the other side of the road.

As I turned my head sideways to see if there were any cars coming so that I could cross the road safely, I noticed a dog crossing the road too.

Reaching on the other side of the road I started walking on the footpath. It was a long and straight road, about 20 minutes of walk to my new accommodation. I did not see any other people on the road. I could see only green fields on both sides of the road. A group of a few houses could be seen across the fields. But there were no building along the road.

I had a feeling that I have been followed. I stopped walking and turned my back, and noticed the same dog that I had seen crossing the road. He abruptly stopped also about ten meters away from me.

I noticed that the dog was completely black, and was alone. Was he following me, I asked myself. Anyway, he is probably going to his house too.

I continued walking, stopping from time to time to see if the dog was still there.

Indeed, the dog was still there and he was following me. I felt a strange sensation of nervousness getting over me. The road was quiet and lonely, and this black dog, quite big, not a breed, just an ordinary dog, was following me.

Why was he doing that, I asked myself. Did he mistake me for his master, who was probably waiting for him at the church by now? In that case he is surely looking for his dog right now near the church. Was his master looking like me and the dog mistook me for his master? Dogs do not make mistakes like that, children do, not dogs. Then why was he following me?

I made him signs to go back, waving my hands in the air and in the direction of the church. But he did not seem to understand what I was trying to tell, or was he playing dumb and ignoring my suggestions.

Anyway, the dog did not seem to be aggressive to me. He was showing rather a friendly attitude. So I decided to continue walking. I was about halfway to my accommodation. I was feeling the cold penetrating through my heavy overcoat. My clothes were not quite appropriate for the winter, but that is all I had to wear for winter. I picked up the pace to go a little faster; that would surely warm me up.

The black dog was still behind me, carefully maintaining his distance from me by about ten meters, never too far nor too close to me.

I was approaching the white building, Le Foyer des Jeunes Travailleurs, Accommodation for working youth, provided by the government.

I had found a job just a month ago which was qualifying me to get an accommodation in this Government provided shelter for low income group. I was authorized to stay in the Foyer, for free, but for a limited period of time, or at least until I would be financially capable of financing my own home.

The Foyer was providing free breakfast and one meal per day, during the weekdays, from Monday to Saturday. On Sundays, only breakfast was served, but no meal.

Approaching the entrance of the building, I opened the first door of the sass. The dog had stepped up his pace behind me and before I could object him from entering the building, he was already there next to me, looking up at me.

For the first time I starting talking to him. I said "look, I only have a very small room up there. We have to walk up the stairs. But I do not think that they will allow me to take a dog there".

But the dog did not seem to understand what I was saying. He seemed to be determined to follow me until my room.

I opened the second door of the sass and headed towards the stairs. The dog followed me.

It was a two storey's building with about twenty rooms on each floor. The canteen and the recreation hall were on the ground floor next to the reception.

The rooms were small and could accommodate only one person, males only, per room.

When I arrived upstairs in front of my door, a faint idea crossed my mind. Was it possible that his master was living in the building, staying like me? He seemed to be so familiar with the place. I expected him to leave me there and rather run straight to his master's room.

I stopped in front of the door of my room, took the key out of the pocket. The dog waited until I opened the door. He was already inside the room before I even realized what he was doing.

He was the first one to enter my room, straight inside and was rather waiting for me to enter and close the door behind.

I entered the room and locked the door behind me.

One thing was clear to me at this moment. This dog was hungry and he followed me hoping that I would offer him something to eat. Unfortunately, he had chosen a wrong person.

As it was Sunday, and on Sundays only breakfast was served in the Foyer, I had provisioned my food for my Sunday meals; two cans of sardines were nicely arranged in the small closet in the room. One can was for my lunch and the other one was for my dinner. I could not afford to buy more provisions than that. There was also a bottle of milk tied to a shoe-lace, hanging outside the window.

Well, the temperature outside at this time of the year was quite low, around 5 or 6 degrees Celsius. Keeping any drinks, like milk, outside the window, was as good as keeping it in the refrigerator.

"What can I give you to eat my friend?", I was talking to the dog. "I can share with you half of what I have; one can of sardines for you and the other one is for me". I realized that if I do that, I'll have to content myself with some milk only for my dinner. All grocery stores were closed on Sundays. So, there was no question of going out to buy anything until the next day.

I opened the closet to take the cans of sardines and I started to open one. The dog seemed to like the idea and started wagging his tail with excitement. I took an old newspaper lying on the table next to my bed in my room and emptied some content from the can onto it. The dog did not wait for my invitation. He finished it in a single big bite.

He was really hungry, and he was expecting more. I had no other option than to pour the remaining content of the can on the paper. He ate the second serve as quickly as he had done with the first one.

I took the second can from the closet, and waving it in front of him I said "Look, this is the last can I have. I can't give it to you. I am hungry too. I need to eat this".

Was this dog smart? Did he understand what I was saying? He stood up, wagged his tail and went towards the door. He was ready to leave.

I turned the lock to open the door. The dog simply rushed out of the door, ran straight to the stairs, walked down and left.

I felt a chill in my body seeing him leave like this. No goodbye, no thanks. He just left so cold heartedly.

It left me pondering over the events that just occurred there that morning.

Whose dog was that? Is he habituated to follow people like that who would eventually give him food? Was he a street dog, abandoned by his master?

Anyway, now he is gone. I shall probably see him again some other day, outside, in the street, on the road side, near the Church.

I stopped thinking about him. I was hungry. It was time for lunch; my only can of sardines for the whole day.

I never saw that dog again.

Almost forty six years later, I never stopped thinking about this strange encounter with a black dog.