Clodo

Clodo is my little dog

Crénom of a dog

It's a name that suits him well

Clodo is a bastard

A bit noisy

He has all the makings of a real vagrant

One day they threw him out of a car Evil people abandoned him

They sped away at full speed I, the dog, adopted him

Clodo, a gesture, a word To put him warm

The two of us get along well I want him to have no more a dog's life

His mother was single He says he was born under a bridge

He has never known his father He has the soul of a vagabond

He wants to show off, he does the paws But when he has heartaches

From time to time, he lifts his paw And his way of pouring a flower

Oh yes, my name is Clodo.

And it is maybe not very aristocratic, but that has never helped me either.

There you go, a vagrant is a carefree one who takes time as it comes.

People as they are, then life on the good side.

It all started in Montmartre Where I still had a fixed address.

Ah, of course, it was not the palace of Versailles.

And the staff was not exactly stylish.

Are you going to kick me out, dirty mutt?

Dirty mongrel, go do that on my doormat! Can't you do that at your masters'?

Luckily, the house had another kind of female inhabitant.

Whose staircase revealed the secret charms to me.

- Good morning, Miss Bisou. - Good morning, Miss Mireille.

Well, you have a pretty dress.

Isn't that so? What a pity that it shrank in the wash.

But not at all, it is brand new It is a gift from my fiancé.

What misery! Well, someone would pay me dearly to go out with a miniskirt.

I would not have paid a cent for that… But to see Olivia,

the bitch from upstairs, I would have given 20 chicken carcasses!

At the foot of the gas lamp in the courtyard I sometimes met her.

So I would go sadly back to my masters.

And, it must be said, I was not received much better.

That woman who said she loved animals thought only of killing fleas… That makes no sense.

And then, that thing of hers there did not smell good.

Besides, it must be said, she had the habit of the bomb.

Long live the holidays, before school starts. Long live the holidays.

Have we worked well?

You know, in the last class, the teacher read us a story.

Ah yes, which one?

It is a cat that has the smell of a mouse.

What use? I wonder a bit.

Right then, the little brats demanded their mash.

You will have your snack after your bath.

So I took advantage of it to go say a little hello to Cathy.

Oh, Cathy, she was kind.

With her, always a pet, a little piece of sugar.

But then, the boys.

Oh, they were really stupid, like young dogs. Oh, excuse me, I said it.

Come here, I am going to wash your snout.

- Oh, the beautiful dog. - There, Clodo.

Come on, come on, Clodo.

Here, Clodo, take it.

Leave him alone, mum?

What else?

I want to play with him, one must not bother Clodo.

Can't you keep still, damn it? I told you to come wash, Cathy too.

The imagination of those little devils had something diabolical.

And I was always the one who paid the price.

Mum?

- Mum? - What do you want, my darling?

- What did Clodo do? - And there you go, what had I told you?

Look.

Well then, now I only have to start again. Oh, I am fed up with that dirty mongrel.

- I am fed up, fed up, fed up. - Ah, slander.

Slander is a formidable weapon.

I bet it is not you, huh, Clodo?

- I do not know. - I am sure it is Jojo again.

Do not worry. Now we are going on holiday. You will see how well we will be by the sea.

The father, who had a wild authority in his functions, lost all prestige before his wife.

Oh, is it you? Take the skates, please. Well yes, hurry up.

Of course, in the police stations it is less well polished.

Bravo! All that was missing was the dog… Give me that! Oh no…

I suppose he was whistling to himself and he was cooking up an accident report.

Luckily, the next day, his worries were forgotten by the happiness of the holidays.

Ah, certainly, the trip was going to separate me from Olivia, my love.

But I saw her so little that it would not make much of a difference.

The advantage of being a dog is that one is not forced to carry burdens.

That is reserved for donkeys and humans.

Hey, you! Taking the suitcases out like that.

Wait, there is still this.

Come on, see you in a bit.

Dad, I am going to help you a little anyway.

That man fell a lot.

But his wife always knew how to find the right words to comfort him.

Oh no, then! Oh no, no! This is not the time to sit down.

There are still four suitcases to bring down.

They were so occupied with their luggage that they ended up forgetting the people.

It really is something.

Ah, the dog.

But make room, eh.

- What, what else is there? - Claude said that we forgot a suitcase.

We forgot a suitcase?

Ah, if they had entrusted me with the organization of this trip.

So hurry up.

In the end, I had lost masters, but I had gained independence.

I was hungry.

Hunger justifies the means.

You pinched my glove right away! And now, he takes it away

my sausages… You’re kissing me, you beast! I won’t come back, otherwise…

Suddenly, what do I see? The 4L. Without thinking, I get in.

But the inside did not have at all the same smell. Well, why? Why straw?

- Goodbye, Gaspard. Have a good day. - Goodbye, see you Friday.

- Gaspard! Gaspard! - Oh!

- Are you coming to have a drink at the Vierge? - No time, my handsome old fellow.

I must go back to the farm, there is a lot of work.

First, I must feed the animals… Without them, I could croak.

- Who makes you do that? - Mr. paints.

You talk a painting.

Oh, la, la, la, la. Where had I - gotten myself into?

My poor mother had indeed told me, Clodo, you would end up on the straw.

The straw was indeed there, but it was only the beginning.

What is - that? What am I - going to take out?

I had slipped into the farm, and the next morning, I

discovered that I had spent the night with two feet and a fly.

Hello, you. Not good eyes. You have a good face.

You are lost, huh? Ball of fur.

What are you called? Clodo, that is your name.

You would like to speak, but you cannot.

The owner of the feet had not made a face at me, but what would the others say?

Fabien, do you know what time it is?

Where does that dog - come from?

- Ask him. - Where did you find him?

In a dream.

He is not handsome.

It depends. One must know how to look at it.

And Louis XIV at the little rising, what would he have said of it?

He smells of dog. You should wash him.

And her? She stank of Eau de Cologne.

Well, your mother who said like that to handle yourself to go betray the Rousse.

Otherwise, you will still turn up at mass after the Introit.

The enemy in retreat, I was attending the most astonishing washing of my life.

My new friend was manifestly distracted.

And then water had to be scarce in the country. In any case, they saved it.

In Paris, I had noticed that to wash themselves, people used soap.

Here, the less polluted nature allowed a washing in the manner of cats.

In any case, that boy was tending his flowers.

The water, after several uses, could still serve to make soup.

Once the washing was completed, I understood that I was adopted.

Look at the beautiful bell.

Who is going to come do the cows with Fabien?

It is Clodo.

I do not know if I smelled of dog, but in there, it did not smell of rose.

There, you see, that is Johnny.

La Brigitte, Claudia, over there-there is la Sophia, you see, way in the back, there is la Françoise.

In town, one finds milk in berlingots.

In the countryside, it seems to me that it is in cows.

One sits down, one pulls on kinds of bell cords and then the milk, the milk flows.

Well, when it wants to work.

Because those cows - there worked only under certain conditions.

No music, no milk. Fabien being late, no question of discussing.

Good day, madam. Look how beautiful I am.

Yeah, not bad. Come on, come on, off you go, off you go, you are going to be late.

Gently, the door.

You were saying, madam?

Gently, the door.

Yes, madam.

The farm woman, I think she would not have had advantage to blow into a breathalyzer.

I, who had drunk nothing, was seeing really strange things.

Fabien, in his room, was finishing an equally original toilet.

Insecticide atomizer.

What? You are not gone yet?

My missal.

There is your missal. Go on, get moving. But by golly, it smells like cop.

Come, Clodo.

Oh, look at the birds of the sky.

A sowing, a harvest.

Your heavenly Father feeds them.

So do not ask yourselves: what shall we - eat tomorrow?

So, there is no point in having a cookbook.

Brothers, I would like to speak to you of a very important problem,

concerning the sacred commandment that the Eternal gave to man and woman,

grow and multiply.

Oh, here are scholars, sociologists, economists,

animated no doubt by excellent intentions,

claim to intervene in the divine mystery of production

by means of certain regulating medicines.

The pill, since it must be called by its name.

Ah, my very dear brothers,

what will this profane intrusion into a domain reserved to the Lord produce?

Let us - beware of the demon who sometimes takes the most innocent forms

to loom among us.

The spirit of evil is always vigilant,

and it is when one suspects it least that he commits his crimes.

What influence, well then, dear brothers,

could this alarming pill - have,

especially on the license of morals?

Weak indeed is the flesh already. Temptation is in us all.

That is too much order, if you are already counting, while I am speaking to you.

He would like, my brothers, for contraception to be legalized today

in order to transform what is a creation

into a simple recreation.

But that would reduce us, my very dear brothers, to the rank of beasts.

It is a matter of knowing whether man,

creature of God redeemed by the Son of the Lord,

must lower the august gesture of procreation

to the sole level of pleasure.

But that would be behaving,