You are ineffective

and other compliments

Do you ever talk to someone after five years and think, “Shoulda made that six. Or sixty more.”

Let sleeping dogs lie.

Let old friends from your very distant past stay on that other timeline. I know a couple of dudes who are still frozen in the space where I met them, or left them. The 80s boyfriend who wants to talk about the GoGos and scrunchies and not what we’ve been doing for the last 40 years. The old business associate from the mid 90s who still thinks I’m the “sassy” go getter career gal fire brand chef even though I’m in the desert making vinegar and green tea wipes for old dog ears 20 years later.

“Yea, but you’re smart enough to figure out how to get outta there! Just get a car and run for the border!” is always the famous trope. It’s so easy. Especially for people who are living in that house they bought in 1993 and never moved from…Have you looked on Zillow?

Also I think to myself, which Border. North? I’m not so sure you guys are okay in the US. I was looking at Guatemala. Not convinced I am ready for RoundUp and road rage at 10x the price. I’ll wait. As much as I’d like to get some gorgonzola gnocchi from Trader Joe’s and have access to some nice parks or go out to a steak house and speak in my mother tongue, I’m good.

Maybe.

Yes, I would LOVE a town more serviceable than where I am, but if you’re a grown up and you’ve moved a time or two in your life, you know that change isn’t always an upgrade.

I still believe in a little bit of magic or destiny. I was quite literally brought here and dropped on my head. Oh and wouldn’t you know it, she has an affinity for dogs and makes herbal medicines. This town has hundreds of sad lonely sick dogs! Put her there. Take her car. Make it far away from anything.

The hand of God doesn’t always buy you a ticket on the Good Ship Lollipop.

HOW ARE YOU??? says that voice from your past but you pick up because, hey, who am I alone in the desert to not accept a phone call?

Let sleeping dogs lie.

If they’ve read my story or heard about something dog rescue-ish Mexico car crash blah blah, Yea but what else is new?

I mean it was nice and all and I know you like dogs and stuff but you have to get out of there! You’ll not be able to move or travel with all of them so you’ve gotta get rid of the dogs! I know that sounds mean or whatever but you have to get rid of the dogs.

It always seems to come from the kind of people who talk about “the right thing to do” who virtue signal at all turns who say stuff like that. Maybe he should come live here, everyone else has the same advice. Leave the dogs! Who cares!? Like I’m collecting them. I’ve literally turned away and pretended not to see dozens more because I simply don’t have the funds or the space.

Who cares about the old ones with fluid build up in their ears from being kicked in the head. Who cares about the ones who were rat headed puppies and now are adults. The ones who were run over and left to die? the starved? Matteo with his glued shut eyes? Limping starved Pedro. Tossed over a boat River Bardot? The ones who would never let me go to a store alone, not once, not ever?

Can’t you find them new homes?

Shut up. Have you been to a dog shelter in the last 20 years? I’d love to but it’s really hard to get here and I’ve no way to get there. Wherever there is. And I’m sick of explaining it to people who don’t care.

Let sleeping dogs lie.

Well, you’ll be stuck in your own hell then, he said, good luck with that. I figured he must be drinking because the conversation was “brainstorming” and then it turned into ugly victim blaming-ish. Oh yeah sorry about your roll over car wreck in poor ass pueblo Mexico, but dust yourself off and walk away and get on the plane and move to Tuscany. You’re not getting any younger.

“I’m sure you’re ineffective at this point anyway, not trying to be mean but you’ll never change the street dog orphan thing in Mexico. It’s a boat with too many holes in it. Three years is enough.”

Much of that isn’t untrue. None of us are getting any younger. But really? At 57 I’m not childish enough to think I’d be able to enjoy a prosciutto wrapped melon slice if I left a bunch of creatures in the desert to die a slow death. Another glass of Barolo?

By the looks of the overfull shelters in the US though it looks like a ton of folks are okay with that. Just leave them. Go live your best life.

So yea, I’m not doing that. I’ve had plenty of gnocchi and shopped in lovely stores and I miss them terribly but seriously. These hardly seem like the Negroni Years in the near future. If I’m wrong, please save me a seat at the table, but I’m not leaving the dogs.

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Lola’s Dog Rescue is run by Michele Niesen a former chef, organic farmer and writer who was broadsided and flipped during a cross country drive through Mexico. More info on the dogs and links to Instagram at linktr.ee/lolasdogrescue

Formerly of the Habersham Hacienda, The Supper Club Decatur and Billy Goat’s Cantina, a lifetime of curating and serving incredible meals has taking a pit stop in a town with no ingredients but hundreds of abandoned dogs. Life is funny. Follow, subscribe, donate, share.