Cecilio, the Fun Dad

Saturday, I think it's 2023

I see Cecilio, Andie's "dad" wandering around outside singing a ballad, like he does, since 530am. Maybe earlier, I don't always know who's going through my trash.

Andie already had breakfast and she, Pedro, Niles, a few other street/beach dogs, and Andie's brother who looks exactly like her except he's filthy and has a bent ear...all are following Cecilio around wagging tails loving his songs and going slowly because he has a limp from a boat accident or a shark attack.

All of the dogs inside the gates here are howling like coyotes and calling to him and their friends as they walk past. But they're stuck inside with dumb ol Lunch Lady washing the patio and cleaning breakfast bowls.

This is just a reminder that sometimes you can Do the Least and be more popular than the one who Does the Most.

NO ONE yells at Cecilio or tells him to put his dogs away or judges him for yelling at the garbage cans. No one cares if he disappears for several days or weeks and leaves his dogs unfed. In fact everyone says, Ay, pobrecito...(poor baby) he's well into his 50s and the town drunk. He has a house here with a sister but mostly he sleeps on the sidewalk.

Ditto Jesus the assassin who was in jail for 14 years. He's another pobrecito, not a dirt bag killer. (who still owes me $100usd for Nexgard tick meds)

As for the inside dogs who want to wander around with Cecelio and eat trash, I tell them it's fine but they have to stay with him always and he's not always reliable. And then watch out for the ladies with pepper spray and the teenagers with ropes to tie you to the back of a 4x4. Also be prepared for a week or so when his peso goes to the Modelorama beer store not the kibble store.

I know it's fun to eat birthday cake frosting off of plastic lids and crunch bones from someone's bbq and tip beer cans looking for extra sauce. That guy is like Rumspringa for dogs. I’m a good ol reliable Wednesday, but my hours are solid.

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Watched the can collector stroller guy dump out all the trash across the road, take what he wanted and leave a big mess. The cleaning lady next door came out and said, 'ay dios another mess from those pinche perros..." (those freaking dogs) usually I'd yell that it was the homeless dope head guy but guess what today is? Not Dealing with Doofus Day. I'm not responding anymore to these folks. If your story is that dogs do everything wrong, that's your story. Some chick on the corner with a bunch of dogs...an American on top of it--isn't going to change your mind. And if you think that all the dogs inside my patio eating carrots and papayas and napping somehow dumped your trash? Everyone needs a bogeyman.

It also occurred to me that the carne asada old timer may be right. Everyone in Mexico has mental issues (his words) and in particular, this town. He’d get no argument from me. Americans are increasingly nutso, but Mexico is a whole other Universe. It’s really tough to navigate even though I’ve been in, around, dating, working with traveling through for 25 years, there’s still some things. Horrible bright lighting, consistently toxic perfumed cleaning products, neon colored snacks and speakers big enough for a stadium used at a birthday party for example. Complete lack of customer service. On timeness. There’s just not logic always. Or my kind of logic. It’s not wrong I just can’t bend myself into it. There’s some crafty, hardworking, totally clever folks no question. Personal lives seem weird, full of drama and secrets with an odd handling of money. (Spending $20k on a Quincenera but not buying new tires for the truck)

When some lady texts and says “keep all the dogs in the yard or let them all back on the street so they can be killed…they belong to the pueblo” It takes my translator hamster brain a few seconds to process. Do what now? You want them in OR out? And then, oh. You’re crazy. I’ll consider it, having them all killed. Gracias. I’ve realized that it’s not necessarily the Sonoran dialect or slang, or that I’m losing my Spanish, but it’s bad grammar and horrible spelling on behalf of many. Some is lazy texting but much is just illiteracy. I should know better, I lived in rural Georgia for 14 years, I’ve heard some sentences like that’s hotter than a billy goat with two dicks in a pepper patch (credit to Danny Smart, septic tank installer). When I’m around educated Spanish speakers it all falls into place. No soy yo.

Some of these people aren't to be engaged with and the local shopkeepers spill the tea...I've seen quite a few grand hand gestures about the goofy guy on the fancy bike---Ack! el es LOCO. Forget it about it! (and the backwards wave golf swing motion, like throwing a fish over the fence) With intel about who is a crybaby or a drama queen or just plain weird, I can dismiss a lot of people.

From the other room I hear a True Crime narration in the atonal flat key that is so soothing. “He engaged in odd and dangerous behavior and often had picnics in cemeteries with ferrets…”

There’s always someone weirder. But it’s soothing to hear about it in English.

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This is Rocky, after a stolen bean cup and hard boiled egg bender. One year old Rottie mix has been here since birth. Andie the ninja feral Aussie is his mom. He is athletic, strong, FAST like a racehorse but wants to be with you always so he runs and comes back to find you. Would make an excellent service dog or search and rescue candidate. Fast study, climber, jumper, swimmer, not skittish to noise or chaos. Sensitive to light criticism and walks on lead like a professional. Not a barker nor a destroyer. Knows, sit, stay, go to your bed and his name. Potty trained. 55lbs, 30in to shoulder. Formally Rocky Socks Balboa.

Hey, thanks for reading, thanks for subscribing. For more info about the dog rescue and ways to support this ridiculous unplanned Mission from Dog, linktr.ee/lolasdogrescue