Au Revoir au Lot and Bonjour à l’Ariège

The donkey watched morosely as the small black Renault pull out of the driveway.  “People never say good-bye to me,” he thought.  He bared his teeth and released a long donkey sigh.  Then the kitten snatched at his swishing tail and he focused his attention on stepping on the annoying grey feline. 

Boulette, the dog, whined and pawed at the gate wanting consolation from her friend the ass.  She hated it when members of her pack disappeared.  Boulette could also detect a faint odour of misery; both her family and the-ones-who-left had spent a long time hovering around the car and “barking” unintelligibly.  The donkey ignored the dog’s misery and continued to fix his baleful glare on the kitten. 

Our Home in the Pyrenees

Later that day when the sun had just passed its zenith, another cat noticed the same small car driving slowly on a small country road in the Department of Ariège.  This queenly cat had been sitting in the middle of her domain gazing about her for mice or birds to torment.  Unfortunately, the car had scared everything off, including the little bird she had been eyeing with focused intent.  She gravely considered marching up to the car and yowling her disproval, but in the end decided it was too much effort.  The sun was warm on her ears and that darting shadow may have been edible, or at the very least amusing. 

At sunset, a hawk was soaring upwards on a thermal over the Pyrenees surveying his terrain en route home.  The last rays of the sun were lending a warm glow to the snow-capped peaks.  The mountainsides were a rich mottled red and green; the brisk winter wind rattled the empty tree branches.  The hawk noticed the same black car parked outside an old stone house.  The house was dark and all was still, except for the figures emerging from the car.  They seemed to be carrying bags into the house, but the hawk didn’t really care.  They were too big to eat.