The story below made me think of our summer squatter who comes to live in the woods a kilometre up the road from us. A Dutch man with a dazed expression and few teeth. I found him living in a stone shed in the forest whilst walking our dogs. He was living surrounded by debris, no taking rubbish to the poubelle for him. That was a few years ago and we notice now every summer he appears down in the woods. One year we knew he had a dog and we found one hanging around our gates. I thought it might belong to "the squatter" so I thought I would do the decent thing and walk down to see if it was his. I wandered off down the track, found the shed and knocked on the door, the door slowly swung open and stood in front of me was a massive, growling black mastiff of a dog (Hound of the Baskervilles, came to my mind) I gulped and then offered him my hand to sniff, it was that or turn tail and run and I felt the dog would be faster than me! The dog sniffed my hand and then licked it and started wagging his tail. At which point " the squatter" arrived from the dark, smelly interior. He spoke English and was surprised I was not scared of his dog. My knees were knocking but I must have looked unafraid of him and his dog. I discovered the little dog was not his and we had quite a pleasant if unusual conversation.
I read this back and wonder myself what I was doing on my own in the woods trying to re home a dog. Strangely when I meet this man in the streets of Laguepie he always greets me with a smile, fortunately not with bisous!
At least once in the summer the Gendarmes get a message from local farmers to come and move him on. He gathers his meagre belongings and leaves for the day and is then back again the next.
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