Old dog, old tricks

I guess it was love at first sniff. We had a big, handsome Mexican dog who grew quickly from the tiny puppy abandoned on our beach, about to die from heat, dehydration and attacks by a flock of hungry vultures.

He was so small we called him dwarf, Enano, not knowing he would soon be as large as a great Dane. One day a scruffy looking female mix from the beach passed by our house, fell for the charms of Enano and decided to adopt us. She was covered with mites and ticks and my wife did everything in her power to drive her away from our gate; yelling, small stones, the dreaded water hose but nothing worked. There she stayed night and day while Lynda forbade me to feed her. I gave her water and solace and hoped she would wander off. After two weeks vigil I opened the gate and said “You’re ugly, Fea, but you have staying power and you’ve got a new home with us.”

That was almost 14 years ago and she has been a pleasant companion all those long days. She’s no longer spry but she still moves about, runs a ways, barks as always, licks everybody who visits, begs food and now sleeps about 20 hours a day. As she grows into her golden years I cannot help myself from seeing her as a person, an old person, a blue haired one-time charmer now shuffling about on an invisible dog-walker mumbling about the weather, the bobos and the same old dog food.

I know about imprinting and I know her past from begging for scraps from the fishermen up and down the beach so when she often slides back through the years to show us her burlesque flirtatious side I am at a loss for explanation.

We all know she will not live forever but no matter what or when I can say I’m glad she came our way and I was pleased to be her unconditional friend and protector.