Coming home from the poissonnerie this afternoon, I met a little black dog named Mikey (which in French sounds like my-KEY), and his person, a very friendly woman who lives on the 4th floor of our building. Dogs and children make such great reasons for talking to other people, no matter what country you’re in. Anyway, as we walked up the stairs together, chatting about our apartment’s former tenants, about Madame’s children, and of course, about Mikey and his “habitudes,” Mikey himself stopped on every landing to roll around on the welcome mat in front of each door–his polite way of marking his territory. It was all a very welcome and serendipitous meeting, since I had been feeling kind of cut-off everyone but store clerks and bureaucrats, who aren’t really interested in engaging you in small talk as you look for correct change or important documents, respectively. Upon our arrival on the 4th floor landing, Madame said good-bye, and graciously suggested that if we ever needed anything, to please come knock on her door. Quelle gentillesse! (How nice of her!) Our conversation did not last long enough for me to find out what kind of profession Madame is in, but one thing is certainly clear: she is probably not a bureaucrat.