Violets and Cranes

two go out, two come in

Well Frasier came back the next day and the new adoption dad was close behind. He still had a rope on his neck but the new dad said he was going to get a collar at the hardware store. I didn’t let Frasier in.

I discussed how for maybe 3 days they should shower him with treats and a good meaty bone and he’d come around.

Frasier was back in 3 hours.

He climbed our fence to GET IN and I have to respect a dog’s obvious communication. The guy didn’t come back, he didn’t have a new collar, I cut the rope off and Frasier reveled in glee like he had been lost at sea for 100 days and nights. He likely missed the pack, there’s much comfort for dogs in groups. They like the solid feed schedule and the safe space I provide for sure but it’s the combination of pack life and leader/protector Lunch Lady. I do some training but will admit, with 12? and no real private space for one on one? I mostly do sit and leash manners. Rocky is my main focus as he’s young, huge, VERY affectionate and strong. He could easily push a kid or an elderly person down with a big hug. He’s easy to train and if I can keep him away from his mom Andie, who loves to take him on pirate adventures to steal crap from people’s yards like shoes and tools or groceries (?!) and then chase cars…she’s a menace…he’s a good boy. But impressionable. A pocket full of hot dogs makes me very important to listen to. (continued below)

Yesterday when I went out to walk the leashed crew, the lady at the auto parts store said, Un perro over there…and pointed to this bag of bones asleep next to my water bowl on the pole. She was still breathing, she was one of the white shepherd/coyote looking dogs that show up here. Ojo was one of those dogs on the other side of the beach. Had she been run over? Just starved to death? Callejeros (street dogs) tell no stories, but their bodies do. Gravel imbedded in fur, rotted teeth, missing teeth, dead eyes often blind from infection or just blind from poor genetic cross. They’re so inbred they eventually become their own grandpa. Ticks of course. It takes a while to assess because I don’t know these dogs and I don’t know if they’re in pain, or could snap. None ever have though, they know you’re trying to help them so I can usually carry them to another location.

I spent the day cleaning and wrapping this old dog in blankets and put her on the patio in a sunny spot. Pulled ticks and washed her fur with a washcloth. Cleaned her big old ears and pulled critters out of there. She let out those big sighs that let’s me know that they are feeling safe and cared for. Once inside and not on the roadside, they will stretch out a little even if they’re still sick or not awake. The grooming and preening is something that calms all of them down. I’m not a big “petter” but I will lay my hands on their side and I do massage and brushing. The other dogs sat around and were respectful and we all sort of figured she’d pass in the night but little by little she’s trying to gum some mushy food, has eaten an egg yolk, some chicken broth, lots of water with electrolytes and milk! which seems to be the thing that gets much maligned but also seems to bring a lot of dogs (and me) back to life. She has only 4 teeth, one canine that is square on the top and no lowers. The molars are all brown and black and have holes. Eating rocks? it’s tough to get food in there so no wonder she’s starved. But blind, no teeth, no home? How do they survive?

I rethought my water Bowl at the Pole now that I know NO ONE stops at stop signs in this or many Mexican intersections (ps how I got here is someone ran a stop sign at a highway intersection I was in the middle of and flipped my van and trashed it and all of my stuff therin). Maybe she saw the water bucket and was making her way there and someone ran her over? I moved the bowl down the block. I rethink a lot of my “good deeds” because sometimes I wonder if intervention isn’t just meddling with nature. But why would nature keep this dog alive and then give bountiful litters to other street females? All in the same week? I saw more than 30 puppies on the streets on Sunday alone. Some days I am bailing the boat and someone is behind me with a jackhammer making the hole bigger. Not even just random poor people, nope. These puppies have been birthed by the dogs who live at the Marine base, the shop keeper lady across the road who seems to insist on separating the mama from the litter and the guy who runs the beer store with their sidewalk mutts. That’s just on this side of town. Sometimes it brings me to my knees which helps nothing. I can easily spin into a Migraine Episode (alligator wrestling I call it) and in the right atmosphere I can forget my electrolyte and saltwater intake, skip meals, get overstimulated and then it’s just a laundry detergent smell over the fence or a tarred roof away from two days of stabbing pain and vomiting. The alligator is patient.

So. Keep your shit together. One dog at a time. Do what you can. Take care of yourself somehow. Look in off moments for bigger properties that are in hilly grassy places like Oaxaca but then know that your visibility and presence in this underserved Centro is where all the dogs are in need. And no one should die alone. I’m comfortable in my role as Death Doula. Sometimes it’s time. And I’d like to make it as smooth as can be in a town with no vet and so no euthanasia.

This lady I’m calling her Violet. That was my great grandma’s name and I didn’t know her but I heard many stories that she really loved dogs too and always had a piece of cake to serve you if you stopped by her house. So this old Violet, who likely has never been inside or with a name, can lay with us on a pile of fleece blankets that a nice donor sent to us from Atlanta. And I’ll hand feed her milky soft things until she either gets up or goes down the rainbow bridge lane. I have to keep my light in tact and not get emotionally bogged down. There’s too much, you have to just do good where you can. But do something. Always.

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