Isn't there someone you could call?

Independence is like leprosy in Mexico

Conversations are very blunt in Mexico. Especially with women. And older women moreso.

I’ve never been 4 seconds into a conversation without, Don’t You Have Children? Where are your children? Husband?

You never married?

Family? No cousins? Siblings? Isn’t there someone you can call ? Won’t someone come pick you up?

The answers to those questions are No. Hell no. Nope. Dead. And I wouldn’t bother a friend to pick me up from the morgue.

No one, and I don’t care how many friends you have, once you get well over 35, even 45 for the Aquarians and the single dudes who pay Frisbee golf and bartend for a living, the days of someone driving 2000+ miles, crossing a border into a dangerous cartel state to navigate whatever and get to you and all these dogs you’ve rescued over the years? That’s a tall order. Yea, even the really generous ones. Even the ones who owe you a favor or five.

I hear the term Ride or Die bandied about, and I had that crew in my youth (mostly to grab margaritas or help cater an event) but I dunno, do you really have a ride? I know. Bleak. You may run through your list of folks and think, well that’s sad for her but if I really needed someone, Ralphie would come. I’m sure of it. And for your sake, I hope so. But as an elder orphan who was raised like a single child with no extended family, I’m used to it. As a solid grounded person who sort of doesn’t keep up with friends who are in name or holiday texts only, the list shortens.

The ones who can’t get out of their own way or get two consecutive days off of work or who have health issues or are caring for elderly parents in Hospice (we’re all nearing 60 on the young side and 80 on the seasoned side) those who REALLY shouldn’t be driving in Mexico, I honestly wouldn’t bother any of them.

So no. I don’t have anyone I could call unless it’s got Animal Transport in the name on the side of a bus. Just like I haven’t asked anyone to help me move since I was in my 20s. You’re welcome.

American women, some anyway, have seen independence as a badge of honor. US GenX chicks I guess? But in Mexico, they really think something is wrong with you and maybe there is! But I can think of five ladies with dozens of kids and grandkids in my tiny pueblo who couldn’t get their spawn to bring them a loaf of stale Bimbo bread from the tienda before Thursday. That’s why there’s moto delivery kids everywhere. They’re not just for the occasional single gringa. Everyone is busy. At work. In the hospital. Dead. Out of town. In prison.

When the accident first happened, a woman who follows me on Facebook said, Can’t you call the Embassy? And it showed me that no one really has a plan for when they get punched in the mouth, to paraphrase Mike Tyson. (That’s not what the Embassy is for btw and just for fun I’ve called it before and you’re directed to a phone tree of useless dead ends and the biggest emergency seemed to be for women not wanting to give birth on Mexican soil as an American) if you think the government is your go to, you may want to check in with North Carolina folks and see how the F E M A assistance is coming after the floods. And in Mexico the US government counts even less. Ask the parents of the slain Marine just driving to the beach from Arizona.

But I digress.

I don’t feel angry or left out or sad or victim-ish and I would have left a long time ago if it were easy, but now after saving all of these doggos I’m not leaving them behind and it complicates things. Day 1219. But even with just one dog, my main old girl Brady and I, we’d need a car to come back over. All of the easy ideas flew out the window when we had a roll over crash and lost the van. (No you can’t just buy another and slide over the border, maybe you’ll get lucky, but eventually the car will be impounded and I can go up and buy one and drive back and then back again “technically” but that’s a load of long journeys through unsafe areas. Not recommended.

In a lifetime of Plan B, C, D and sometimes Y, I’m still digging. I see those crazy old dudes pushing shopping carts with dogs walking alongside like a vagabond chuckwagon and I totally get it.

for more info on the rescue linktr.ee/lolasdogrescue