Osprey - 9-14-2005 at 06:38 PM
Tuerto
There?s little crime in this tiny Mexican fishing village so I leave my small fishing boat right on the beach. Couple of months ago I grabbed a cold
beer, jumped in my old jeep, went down to see how much sand had blown in, to see if I should bother to clean it out or maybe wait until the wind
abated. The sudden and powerful calamity caused by the arrival of the unmufflered smoke-belching jeep blasted a great flock of vultures into the air.
Most of the big birds flew just a short distance, landed, faced the challenger, looked as though they had a very good reason to stay close by, stick
around a while. My heart stopped when I realized I had interrupted their feast -- a small puppy had been abandoned on the beach. It had tried to
hide, to crawl under my boat. It was still alive, bleeding, crying out in pain and fear. As I picked it up I could see the big birds had pecked at
one eye, another wound was apparent at the soft, almost silken tissue just inside the right rear leg.
There are no knackeries or slaughterhouses here; no Animal Control Division people, dog pounds or little green and white trucks, no roadkill pickup
crews. Whatever creature falls to the earth will be eaten by birds or other animals - a little hide, a few bones the only remnants of the thing?s
existence. I couldn?t bear to leave this poor, starving little thing to the vultures. The little guy was more sores than puppy. He looked as though
he had mange but later, at the vet?s office in San Jose, we learned it was fungus. The fungus was probably the reason some Mexican family left him on
the beach.
Some shots, good food and medicine for the wound, the fungus, medication for the damaged eye has done the trick. The little fella is about six
pounds now, no more sores, nice shiny coat, with one eye clouded but moving with the other. One Eye in Spanish is Tuerto so that became his name.
My place is on a bluff so I have a good view of the ocean. I enjoy just lounging under the palm shade on my patio, watching the sun set, drink in
hand, listening to classical music. The dog keeps me company, crawls awkwardly over my ample belly to bite and lick my beard, my gray-white moustache
hoping to find there a vagrant drop of my sweet Mexican brandy. The puppy?s eyes hold me; they look old, wise, human. At times he sits, stares out
over the water as though pondering a complex problem or perhaps searching the horizon for the return of some errant canine navigator known only to
him.
The skin of my arms and hands was weathered but evenly tanned, all of one texture before he came onboard. Now I seem to have inherited his sores -
not sores really, I am riddled with puncture wounds from his needle-sharp teeth. My blood is very thin from medicine I take and from spending so many
years in the tropics. The dog?s eyes sparkle, grow darker when he occasionally draws blood. Perhaps he gets a hint of bile; I have not shared the
secret of my chronic liver condition with my family - it?s just a matter of a few more months. I tied up all the loose ends, signed all the estate
papers before I left Seattle so my family will have all the security we planned for.
This summer the final prognosis from the doctors, some other things, came into my life that I didn?t cope with very well. The little dog is like a
balm. I cannot hold him above the waves, run with him along the shore and stoke the embers of my discontent, my regrets at the same moment. It is my
joy to watch him sleep. His dreams evoke spasms, puling. How could he build nightmares from a life of no more than sixty days, most of it spent
sleeping or at his mother?s teats? The brief but almost fatal attack on the beach was over in seconds. No, the dreams must be archetypical, loaned to
him by all his blood ancestors. A rare and terrible torment, being chased by monsters never before seen or encountered. Starving, killing animals
for food, being killed by others for food, mating rights or territory; more horrific, being killed for none of those reasons.
New goals, new challenges at this late date. While I still have a little time I intend to replace the puppy?s nightmares. My wife Marlis, I hope,
will someday see the dog full grown, asleep in the comfort of my favorite chair. His new dreams will recall the rich, smokey flavor of bits of steak
from my plate, the magic sweetness of a dollop of my shared ice cream dessert. He?ll snore contentedly rather than whine with fear as his puppy
dreamwork reruns our roughhousing, beach combing and horizon searching.
While Marlis and my son Kelly are still back in the states I just want to stay active as long as I can. I?ll take the little boat out tomorrow, try
to catch some fish, share a few beers with my neighbor Carl.
Went to the beach this morning to see if my launch area is clear of driftwood, checked the boat. The launch area was clear, the boat was filthy -
all along the gunnels and seats were big smelly globs of white vulture droppings. It took me an hour to rid the boat of the disgusting goo deposited
by the big ugly birds. Funny......they've never done that before.
Sharksbaja - 9-14-2005 at 07:02 PM
Ah, the feeling of salvation. Be it the giver or receiver it's a good thing.
Oh, the cunning birds of which you are one.
Gracias, mas fina Osprey "El Rey de Drama"
4baja - 9-14-2005 at 07:30 PM
osprey, good luck in the future. if you see peter and his brother tell them that steve and bo said hello.
Paulina - 9-14-2005 at 08:14 PM
Osprey,
Check your u2u.
P<*)))><
bajaden - 9-15-2005 at 09:56 AM
I don't know what to say Osprey. Your story is close to my heart and brought tears. May God be with you. I know that he is.
Eli - 9-15-2005 at 10:09 AM
Ay Osprey, best story you've put out to pull on my heart strings period.
Course, I always was a sucker for a puppy tale.
Thanks again for all you give to reflect on. Hope to see you soon, Sara
gracias, osprey
sylens - 9-15-2005 at 10:31 AM
puppy love is unique. i sent your story to a few close friends who, like me, share their lives with a special dog...guess all our dogs are
special
bajalera - 9-15-2005 at 10:56 AM
You do have a special gift for expressing yourself, Osprey. I'm teary-eyed too.
dogs make special tacos too!!
eetdrt88 - 9-15-2005 at 10:57 AM
just kidding,couldnt resist
Cincodemayo - 9-15-2005 at 11:14 AM
Awesome writings Osprey...God bless ya and hope all goes well in the months to come.
rpleger - 9-15-2005 at 11:19 AM
Good one Osprey.
ursidae69 - 9-15-2005 at 11:32 AM
Thanks for the nice break from the reality here, I appreciate your writings a great deal.
Diver - 9-15-2005 at 12:53 PM
No good words - just feelings........... best wishes !
bajajudy - 9-15-2005 at 06:44 PM
It has taken me all day to reply to your post, Osprey.
When I first started reading your post, I was thinking of all my great puppy saving stories. All I can say it that I am glad that I have those
stories and I am thrilled that you share your stories.
Muchas Gracias.
vandenberg - 9-15-2005 at 08:02 PM
Osprey
You spin a hell of a yarn ,brother.
I sit here ,looking at my 12 year old Lhasa, and knowing what a charmed life that little bugger has had. Beach walk 5 to 6 times a week, splashing
around in the sea. And then seeing all the neglected muts running around Loreto,skinny as a rail and no future. Thank the Lord that some people here
are trying to do something about this. Hope the community will support them