In front of me is a terrifying beast. It writhes and growls. There is a lot of hair and metal. A closer inspection shows a surreal and fearsome tangle of humans and dogs woven together by leashes. The sound is unbearable: yelps and growls and claw-scrapes and metal clinks and shouts for silence.
The dogs dance a frenetic dog ballet, lunging after fallen frites. Every kind of farming and fighting dog can be seen in their pedigree. There are none of the traditional ‘handbag dogs.’ They would not last a second. These dogs scratch madly and their fur is mottled and patchy. They are large and angry except between brawls when they look depressed.
The companions of the dogs are mostly men. Some of them are adolescents and others are past their prime, but they all wear baggy army style trousers which are covered in stains with a hundred pockets which look empty. Their feet are clad in battered leather boots which stretch up their calves. From their waists, chains link one part of their body to another, as if they are worried bits will go missing. Camouflage jackets protect their thin bodies against the night. Their hair is shaved at the side and drawn into spikes on the top. In their ears, wooden plugs stretch the lobes into flabby shapes, and leather bracelets adorn their wrists. Tattooed hands clench cannettes of 8-6, the cheapest beer.
Punk-à-chien!
It translates to ‘punks-with-dogs’. Three words that can’t be dissociated. These are not just punks and these are not just dogs. One would not exist without the other. They are punks-with-dogs. It is a whole new category of drop-out. Punk-à-chien appeared in the 90s and are now a solid feature in cities in France. They have an anti-system philosophy of total liberty. Originally, they were techno-music fans. Some lived in vans, and travelled from festival to festival like gypsy travellers. But now they get stuck in towns because that’s where they can find food for themselves and their dogs. But a lot of them actually come from bourgeois families and for them, this is rebellion.
Their dogs have a crucial rôle. They provide warmth on a cold night on the pavement. And they soften the hearts of passers-by from when the punks beg monnaie et cigarettes. Also, they stop the punks being arrested by the police. It’s difficult for police to separate a punk from his dog, and dogs are not allowed in police cells. So the police tend to leave the punks alone. The punks explain that the dogs are an extension of themselves and receive the care and affection that the master has been deprived of in a difficult life.
A dog escapes its master and runs straight towards us. Its face looks as if it will eat us alive. Instead, it shoves its nose into my groin and stops still for a moment of calm.