711 Germans Who Love Dogs (1/2)

Chapter 711: Germans Who Love Dogs

Translator: Nyoi-Bo StudioEditor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Early in the morning, even though the weather had yet to clear up, people were walking around at Potsdamer Platz.

Double-decker buses were dropping off groups and groups of excited tourists, and a great number of people had already joined the queue early to purchase tickets for the films that they were interested in seeing. There were many people who had dogs with them and were feeding their dogs hotdogs, burgers, or Turkish kebabs.

Just how much do Germans love dogs?

If one was to stop a random, middle-aged man on the street and ask him how many kids he had, he might answer––in all seriousness––along the lines of, ”Three––one 8-year-old boy, a 6-year-old little girl, and a 2-year-old dog…”

If there was a housewife out for a walk on the street, she might be pushing a stroller with a little baby in it and walking her dog. The correct way to greet her is to first praise the dog and not the baby or the lady herself…

When the dog owners were tired, they would take a break on the benches by the road. They would take out their own food, or the food they bought from the food trucks, to munch on, while also feeding some to their dogs. They really treated dogs as their own children, and happiness shone on their faces.

Every single dog, be it purebred or not, was well-groomed and energetically healthy. One look was all it took to see that they were all well taken of.

Occasionally, large, aggressive dogs like Pit Bulls could be seen, as well, but these dogs all had a muzzle put on them to prevent them from biting anyone.

Zhang Zian followed what he saw. He squatted down and started to feed Famous the Turkish kebabs and currywurst that was in the paper bag in his right hand.

After observing for some time, Zhang Zian realized a very interesting phenomenon. Although there were very few stray cats on the streets, he couldn't find a single stray dog; every dog he saw was leashed and had an owner that carried a paper bag and picked up its poop as they walked.

Since there were no other customers at the moment, the young Turkish chef made himself a burrito and squatted down right beside Zhang Zian, watching Zian feed Famous.

Zhang Zian also took a bite of the burrito. It had a soft and crisp wrap, with a refreshing salad mixed in with the sauce that complemented the fragrant, barbecued meat. All of those flavors together just stirred up one's appetite.

”Very good––very nice!” Zian said in English as he gave a thumbs up.

”Thank you.” The young Turkish chef smiled proudly. ”Are you here for the film festival, too?”

”I guess you can say that I am,” Zhang Zian casually replied.

”Chinese? Korean?” the chef curiously asked, staring at his black hair and yellow skin.

”Chinese,” Zhang Zian answered.

”Oh, Chinese. Forgive me for asking, but you don't eat dog meat, do you?” the chef asked worriedly while keeping his eyes on Famous.