So Jacques and I were walking down the Avenue Breteuil, minding our own business, when we came upon this, a herd of sheep, not more than a football field away from the Invalides. Look behind you and you see a gilded dome. Look to the right and left and you see fancy shops, apartments and Jacques’ vet’s office. Look ahead and, appropriately enough, you see a monument to Louis Pasteur. So maybe a herd of sheep grazing right there in the middle is not so out of place, after all.
Honestly, I have my doubts about the ecological value of managing the grass with sheep. Does it really take less gas to truck these guys in than to run a lawnmower? Out at the house, though, I would love to find a service like this. I’d actually get a sheep or three but I probably would not be around enough to take proper care of them.
So we looked on, I with envy and Jacques with curiosity, as the sheep slowly munched their way over to get a look at the little white furry critter who was looking back; I was of no interest to them at all. Then we moved on. Another day in Paris.