One thing which has become very obvious to me since I arrived in Madrid is the somewhat privileged position of dogs in society…

Although the majority of Madrileños seem to live in apartments, they absolutely LOVE their pet dogs. This adoration manifests in various guises, from the dogs walking around the city in coats emblazoned with “cutest pooch”, to others whose head fur has been coloured and put up in little ponytails. Or, my personal favourite, the Great Dane, which is the size of a small pony, whose owner religiously takes him for a daily walk through the city centre…

Kind of like this.

Except better.

Put simply, Madrid is a paradise for dog lovers. But perhaps the most interesting part of this canine friendly city is the places where you can take your pet pooch.  I’ve seen dogs on the Metro, in the shops, and even in restaurants. Quite a few cafes across town have little signs in the window saying “Well-behaved dogs welcome.”

This is all well and good if you like dogs. But (and I expect the defriending to start now) I’ve got to admit that I am not a fan of canines. I have always preferred cats to dogs, because they are smaller and less frightening and they don’t have big teeth.

But I seem to be in a minority here. Dogs are everywhere!

Case in point…

One day I went to a bar with a friend. We were having a great time, until I heard some creepily persistent heavy breathing beside me. Ugh! Looking across, I expected to see some sleazy individual staring at me. But instead, I saw a dog, seated uncomfortably close by, slobbering and drooling on the floor…

Or the time I visited my favourite store, and found a beloved perro standing right in front of the cash register (surreptitious shot below…).

Unfortunately, the strong presence of dogs has a rather unpleasant counterpart.

Namely, the strong presence of dog droppings…

Although Madrileños are supposed to pick up after their hounds, this rule is somewhat, well, laxly enforced. Consequently, an early morning stroll through the city becomes akin to an obstacle course, as the unfortunate pedestrian attempts to dodge the piles of poo on the footpath.

This has led to the appearance of graphic signs such as these…

Roughly translated, this means “Good luck is having a clean suburb.” And let me just say, after I’ve stepped in the hundredth pile of dog droppings, and I’m not even at the end of my street (seriously, it’s THAT BAD!), cats are starting to look better and better by the second!

But perhaps I’m a little biased…