The day after I photographed Ariski, Andrea and I were surprised by the sound of dogs fighting and yelling in the lane outside our apartment. I rushed out the door and a yellow Lab ran past me. I recognized her as a sweet dog who is often around the village, making friends, scrounging for snacks. She was closely followed by Ariski's dog. I stood between him and the Lab and he seemed satisfied with my presence as a deterrent to continuing the fight.
Ariski came up the lane, yelling at the top of his lungs. He was obviously incredibly angry and I was the closest object for him to vent at. I don't speak a lot of French, but I usually can pick some words out of most conversations. Not so with Ariski's tirade. It was completely incomprehensible to me. Je suis désolé, Monsieur, I said, although I had nothing to be sorry about. She wasn't my dog, after all. He came closer to me and I tensed up, but he then turned toward the path to the chateau. He continued yelling, screaming really, all the way up the path. Five minutes later, we could still hear him up by the chateau.
OK, maybe he was just upset. Or drunk. Or both. Or maybe he's not so gentle.
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