Pollyanna doesn't live here anymore

she moved out after the blood splattering

“You’re not a complainer…” my mom and lots of other people used to say. I say lots of other people because I’m not so sure about the praise my mom gave me. She was right about most things in the world and was very wise and I miss her terribly but let’s face it. You’ll never get better or more solid support than that of a mom who is proud of their daughter. Or dad I guess. I didn’t have one of those.

We can go into the psychotherapy of The Father Wound another day. One thing at a time. I did not grow up to be a stripper or drug addict (no shade, I’m just not very clever or coordinated) I went the other way. I will DIY everything, be hyper vigilant, and be the rock for all. Which is a pretty nice person to have around, if not exhausting to be. I’m not always sugar coating things but I don’t whine.

I need to whine.

The list of needs and wants for a Great Place to Live was clearly lost in the wreck or burned in a fire. I can’t imagine what it said. The heat and lack of proper nutrition has melted my brain. I’m pretty sure it mentioned things like animal hospital, access to farmers markets, “organic” dairy and grass fed beef. Nice weather, quiet neighbors. Walkable, low traffic? Trees?

Irrelevant. I have none of those things.

Oh it’s walkable because I don’t have a freaking car since the wreck that was NOT MY FAULT and buying a car in Mexico (thanks NAFTA) is the most counterintuitive thing I’ve tried to do in a while. No wait, that’s not accurate. The fact that this pueblo is trying to implement a recycling program instead of say, animal control, THAT’s the dumbest thing I’ve seen.

Car buying a close dumb second. I can buy a car but not register the plates if it’s American. I can import tag it but not if it’s bought here. I can buy a Mexican car but not plate it unless a citizen does it. These details can and do change depending on whom you ask in government. That may all be wrong. Money or not, you can’t just go buy a car.

It’s easier to just buy a stolen truck stick random plates on from Oklahoma and take your chances with charm, peso bribes and bad Spanglish. Don’t try to cross any borders or go to Mexico City and you’ll likely be fine. Mostly driving in Mexico you’re trying not to be run off the road, carjacked by armed cartel or hijacked by crooked cops.

Don’t spend more than $2500. There have been a couple cars available in this town. Both 20 years old and not likely what I need. And do I need a car I can only drive 2 miles? It would be nice for sacks of kibble and to take the dogs all at once to the shore and to drop off laundry, but for now I’m washing bloody towels and everything else in a bucket. There is one laundromat in town and it’s not always open. Add to list. Way to do laundry.

Why didn’t I demand a ride out of this place the minute I got here. I knew it was a hell hole. Oh, right. I didn’t have a choice. Then I leaned into helping dogs. I didn’t have a choice there either. So many. So needy. So grateful.

Surely it’ll just be temporary.

Three years in and I’m trying to diaper a sweet fat Labrador “Suzy” who has been bleeding profusely for days from her vulva. Which is an “outy” and sprays clots every time she stands. A botched spay from the vet who used to come to town a couple years ago likely left tissue of ovaries in the cavity and so the dog (all 4 that he spayed actually) go into heat like sorority sisters on a regular. Never even knew that was a thing. Heat after spay. I’ll likely need to have all of them operated on again. Three hour one way drive to a vet in the city. No transport. Have to pay a guarantee of $1000usd to the Spay Campaign guy to come to town so that’s not an option.

The diaper doesn’t fit even with the tail hole. Did you know those things have Velcro flaps now? I’m trying a microfibre towel and duct tape next. Until then, I mop. And I bribe Suzy to stay on one towel with hotdogs. She’s such a good girl. I need to whine.

Someone dumped puppies next to my house on Wednesday. The creepy guy next door found them in his yard and said, are these yours? And I said, of course not, my animals ARE STERILIZED. He tossed them over the fence. He usually drowns or poisons I’ve been told so I guess he’s feeling charitable.

Puppies, like baby chicks, are more resilient than I used to think. They hide in tall grass, relocate themselves near trash bins and yelp loudly to signal their mom (where is she by the way?) or for passerby. I had to tie myself to the chair to not bring them inside. Or feed them, get them a box, water etc. I reminded myself that every dog that I’ve done that for in this town is still here except for 2 who I adopted out to Tucson with a lady who isn’t “doing Mexican dogs anymore”. So I have 12.

I didn’t see the puppies again until yesterday, they’ve disbanded. A couple went to the corner store and two have started playing with the outdoor street dogs. I tossed scraps out to the alley so they don’t see me or think I’m the Mother Hubbard of the town even though obviously I am. They’re under a mango tree and eating falling fruit. Yesterday they followed along to the tienda and sat outside with all the rest and stared at me through the glass.

How do they know?

*As I type this, the fluffy gold one who went to the store yesterday is dead on the road with a crushed skull. Likely just happened because I was already out collecting trash from a big wind and dust storm last night and I didn’t see her/him. That’s the 10th dead puppy I’ve had to scrape off the road since I’ve lived here. Damn it. I wish the people with unwanted litters would leave them to die at their own house. Part of me is relieved. It was fast surely and it’s better than dying from Parvo, distemper, tick illness, starvation and dehydration in this unending heat. The last puppy I took in with her mom and siblings, Tiny, was spayed, vaccinated, on her way to a healthy life after three months of feeding and care and she also was caught in the tire of a Ram 1500 pick up and crushed

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Three days ago I didn’t know these puppies existed and somehow I still feel I have failed them.

Without a proper property, medical services, a helper ?, access to crates, a vehicle, funding that isn’t a trickle, some clothing, I will fail this entire project. I’m just a tiny ball in a game of table tennis whacked back and forth relentlessly. The good thing about that is that you can’t focus on any one thing for too long.

So I mop the blood. I scrub the walls, talk to the roaches I’ve started to name. Have a good laugh about how a dog will get out of a diaper in 2.4 seconds, wonder how long my 16 year old dog Brady has and walk to the store that sometimes has cake.

*I’ve given up on the grass fed beef. But who’s complaining.

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