Drunken Mother's Day
who knew?
We’ll say it was an accident.
If you whip around a corner in a Ford F250 going 40mph talking on the phone, drunk with a baby on your lap and you hit a dog and kill it, surely you didn’t mean to. You’d be a monster. Surely that’s why you didn’t stop.
RIP to little Tiny who fought so hard to get found, get brought inside, get fed with the big dogs. Tiny, who I had vaccinated and spayed with her mama and only remaining (out of 5?) puppy siblings Calico and Border. Mama Calico who was left by some other person who lived in that gross house on the corner who abandoned the dog (unspayed) and mountains of trash to be someone else’s problem.
I worry a lot about the little toddler who pushes his plastic car up this dusty side road where I live. Mostly his dad catches him and his mom yells HEY!! OYE!! and she tosses dirty diapers out into the front yard in a bin with no bag or lid and street dogs eat the poo. I don’t want to hear that noise when that truck/car/moto whips around that corner and they don’t see that kid like they didn’t see Tiny.
She was eating supper on the patio with the others but she’s still narrow enough to fit through the gate slats. It only took 3 seconds. There, then not there. Blood all over the sidewalk. A howl and then it was all over.
Pedro barks at speeders. Tiny liked to be vigilant too. SLOW DOWN!!! They didn’t chase or bark at slow cars or bikes. I guess she stepped out at the wrong time. I only heard two barks and a wail. Not even a thud. She was, after all, tiny.
Well, sure, it’s Mother’s Day so everyone is trashed, said the lady at the tienda. And no one cares if they run over a dog.
I was on edge from morning walks with the leash dogs (and the street packs follow because dogs like group walks and likely feel safer with a Shepherd like me at the helm) and I saw some guy in a minivan punch it from a dead stop when he saw them and try to run them over. He even backed up and tried to get them again. Who is that angry at 7am? he got out of the van and made hissing noises and the dogs had already taken off but I was behind with River and Mattie on leads and just stopped cold. I didn’t proceed, was he insane? Drunk? Going to come after us? I never know when someone has a gun, they aren’t “legal” in Mexico but when did that ever matter? That guy owns some stupid joint on the corner with misspelled signage and obnoxious kids.
Cofee Snack’s. They have a zillion cats in a caged garage. You can smell the pee from a block away. I just stared at him and he at me. I wished in my mind that his dick fell off and kept walking. I’ll burn mugwort later.
The act of just BEING was enough to make him try to run over the dogs? I had a pit in my stomach all day. Please God, send me a ranch, a farm, a van. Amen.
Mama Calico and Border whimpered as I scooped up the body and put her in a fruit crate. Now what. The rest of the dogs, especially big bear Rocky and super sensitive River, dug at the blood on the ground and cried and followed me around and everyone sat in silence outside while I, as usual, wonder what to do with the body.
Were they driving on the sidewalk? How was she alive one minute then bleeding out at the gate the next? I guess she got caught up in the tire. I looked out to see which truck it was. There was a funeral two houses down for an elderly grandma and the custom is to take the body to the house and everyone comes to visit and eat and get drunk for a few days before they go to the cemetery. It’s weird to me but I’m not used to these kinds of Sonoran/Mexican customs which is more obvious by the day. But either way, no one was going to have sympathy or even wonder about a dead dog at the Gringa’s house.
The other dogs they run over on a daily here, funeral or not are just, as they say, “target practice”. They say that stuff to my face knowing full well that I’m the dog rescue chick. When I tried to save the puppy last week that the grocery store guy dumped chemicals on “to get rid of fleas”, I was told casually that they took it to the dump because she was still sick. I knew I shouldn’t have asked. It’ll just die there, he said.
I grieve for the mamas who have lost their sons to cartel recruiters. No one is looking for them. I grieve for the Australians who lost their sons the surfers in Ensenada (which made international news) for unexplained reasons (it wasn’t for tires, btw) it was a message. They burned their 2016 truck, left the tires on and shot them in the head and tossed their bodies in a well. That’s not a robbery.
A political year here too and all the boogers are getting revealed. My heart was heavy to see that Mexican commentary was mostly anger for the lousy police and that the cartel was ruining tourism in Baja and they depend on that money from gringos and now no one is coming to surf!
My heart is also heavy because I think that by trying to make things better, pulling pups out of wet muddy holes and coaxing their mama onto the sidewalk to eat and get socialized? Has only extended their lives to make them, “targets”. Likely would have died a long time ago or been feral freaked out dogs living under a fence. No need for me to feed, vaccinate, spay and house them to have them dead 4 months later and waiting for trash pick up day. I am unclear why I pour so much into this mission and get nothing in return.
Wrapped in the sweater she liked to lay on, doubled bagged and tied like a torpedo, she sits. I learned last Spring that you can’t really bury anything here. The body resurfaces.
Calico won’t come back on the patio. She won’t step over the blood on the sidewalk I’m trying to wash off. She yelped all night and Border is her shadow. They had breakfast but she’s just laying under a car and looking in at me. I’d hoped the trash guys came today. They did not. There is no schedule.
The other rescue dogs sat a small vigil last night. We are so heartbroken here on a daily that I’m not sure I even know the difference anymore.
to learn more about the rescue linktr.ee/lolasdogrescue