An American Geek in Paris — Chapter 1
Un Geek et son Chien
Like many people in Silicon Valley, we have a dog. We used to have two, the master dog and the failover, but now we’re only running with the failover, Hendrix. Fortunately he’s a youngish Border Collie with a ton of bandwidth.
When Hendrix was younger he used to come with me to my office in downtown Palo Alto and hang out. Since he’s a bit territorial he would also sometimes protect my desk by looking slightly less cute in the general direction of an approaching co-worker. In Silicon Valley dogs frequently roam around office buildings, participate in video conferences, and generally keep people chill. Dogs don’t care about the price of your options, they just want to be with you. It’s enough to make me wonder why dogs have yet to appear in HBO’s Silicon Valley. Gavin Belson walking into a Huli conference room full of dogs could be fun.
When we decided to move to Paris there was no question that Hendrix was coming with us. While the process of moving humans to France is complicated enough for me to cover in a future post, it’s not a cakewalk for dogs either. Probably the biggest challenge is that you have to get your dog certified by a special vet and get a sign-off from the FDA all within 10 days of arriving in France. Thanks to my wife’s nonpareil organizational skills, we did that on flight-day minus one.
Your dog has to fly with you to get on the plane. You probably want to go direct because going SFO-JFK-CDG would mean several more hours for your dog in a crate plus an extra landing and takeoff. I have no idea if dogs can equalize the pressure in their ears so we decided not to risk subjecting him to more of that than absolutely necessary. SFO-JFK is a 10+ hour flight and your dog is going to be in that crate another couple hours at the airport too. It’s a long time in a small space for a herding dog. You can’t sedate your dog but you can give them Xanax. Border Collies are particularly anxious dogs so yes, check.
Southwest Airlines could probably turn three planes in the time it takes to check-in for an international flight with a dog. The Air France gate agent was very nice and very methodical, going through a really long doggie checklist and double checking everything with his supervisor. There’s a magic door before security at SFO where you drop off your dog; that’s where we finally put him in his crate for the long ride to our new life.
When we arrived at CDG the next day we were all prepared for a similarly lengthy ordeal going through French customs but the customs officers had all picked a different terminal that day so we just walked out. No one on the French side even checked Hendrix’s expensive paperwork or looked to make sure his paw prints matched his birth certificate. Props for efficiency though!
Our bar for dog-friendly towns is Truckee, California, which is basically a giant dog park which is shared with skiers, paddle boarders, and burners. Paris on the other hand has virtually no grass that animals or even humans can walk on (until you get past the périphérique to the suburban parks). Some arrondissements don’t even have parks of any kind.
Fortunately We ended up renting a place in the 7th, close to the Esplanade des Invalides which allows dogs on the side sections amidst the trees but non jamais! on the beautiful lawns. The signs there say Les Jeux de Ballons sont Interdit — which means “ball games are prohibited.” French law is usually pretty explicit, spelling out every eventuality, but this sign seems to leave a loophole for frisbees, which Hendrix adores catching. It appears that French enthusiasm for writing regs does not always extend to following them; we’ll see how this plays out.
Hendrix is a medium-sized dog in the US — about 60 lbs or 27 kg. That’s big for a Border Collie but for a dog in Paris it is positively gigantic. To put this into tech terms: if Intel® made dogs they would be Parisian dogs; every three years they would shrink to half the size and poop twice as often. When a Parisian wants to control their dog on a leash they basically lift them off the ground, pulling on their designer chest harnesses until their tiny, vestigial legs begin spinning wildly through the air.
The reaction that we get from Parisians when we’re walking Hendrix comes in two basic flavors: Oh comme il est mignon! (Oh how cute is he?), followed by a friendly pat and friendly conversation) or sheer, absolute terror. One little girl in a stroller saw him coming at eye level and started shrieking hysterically. Even full grown adults will sometimes gasp or let out little yelps of fear.
On the plus side, walking around with a dog means you live here which means my wife gets asked for directions a lot so that helps her practice her French. Sometimes this involves actual speaking but more often than not it involves typing long street names like Rue de la Grande Coccinelle into Google maps. Pardon, combien de “c” dans coccinelle?
The company I work for is a French subsidiary of an American tech company that, while based in Massachusetts, has a very liberal office dog policy. When I asked RH (see Chapter 0) why they didn’t follow suit in Paris I basically got We just don’t. Honestly I’m not sure anyone had ever asked the question before, it’s that foreign. This made me wonder if French technology companies are up to date on the important role dogs play in the creative process. For example, herding people into meeting rooms.
Late last Friday my wife walked Hendrix over to the office to come pick me up — his favorite time of day - and I let them both into our cafeteria to meet the team which was assembling for Friday beers, ping-pong, and babyfoot (foosball). French tech has fortunately adopted the kegerator which to me feels like the gateway drug to dogs in the office so I thought I’d give it a shot. My colleagues, who were quite surprised by the sight of a dog in the building, gave him a lot of love. He’s now given them an icebreaker for conversations which is helping me get to know more of my colleagues faster.
Bon chien Hendrix, bon chien.
