He was born in the street, raised in the street and it was being in the street on a particularly fortuitous Thursday afternoon (not that he could have differentiated between a Thursday and any other day) that brought him to the attention of the bare-legged lady with the yellow hair who took one look at him and scooped his bony body up and threw him into the back of her car, making cooing sounds and speaking in a gentle tone that was new to him.
For most of his life, as long as he could remember at any rate, his life had consisted mainly of running, hiding, knocking over garbage cans and nearly getting killed by cars while running across streets. Food was scarce in a land where even the humans had to scramble to eat. Old tortillas, bits of chicken bone, plastic bags with rotting meat, these were his staples most days.
It was not rare to get a kick in the side from a passing human if he wasn’t paying attention or, feel the sting of rocks pelted from groups of curiously smaller humans who also chased him and made loud, aggressive noises.
Often there was no previous warning. The humans would be still one minute, and then smack, he would get clobbered. Brooms were often used against him as well, whenever he got too close to those places where the humans congregated and the smell of cooking was in the air, driving him to distraction while he scratched himself.
Ah yes, the scratching. At some point when you live in the street, you pick up some ticks and fleas and these just seem to multiply exponentially all over your body making it unbearably itchy and causing welts and bleeding which makes you feel even worse and seems to anger the humans even more because the beatings and rocks and brooms seem to be everywhere and more often.
In any case, the yellow haired lady had found him on the street and had literally and figuratively lifted him out of his misery.
He felt fantastic. Now obviously well-nourished, his coat was shiny and insect-free and his yellow-haired lady talked to him constantly in a soothing voice, patting his head gently and stroking his fur and if there was a thunderstorm or one of those extra-large, monstrous contraptions out on the street backfired, he would run, tail between his legs to his benefactor who would stop whatever she was doing and calm him down.
He learned to recognize her name when other humans stopped to say hello to her and pat his head; they called her Betty.
———————————————————————————————–
Will Frijol the Malix live happily ever after or will he get run over by a bus? Will Betty’s hair remain yellow or will the black roots start showing? Will the gringos and their neutering campaign get to Frijol the Malix thereby affecting his virility?
Stay tuned for another exciting installment of Ti’ho Tales, coming soon (I hope)
Ok, now I’m really hooked. Frijol the malix could probably have some really interesting observations of the silly antics of the gringos. He is, though, a very lucky fellow to have been scooped up by Betty. However, Betty now has a huge obligation to protect him. Should he get out into the street and run over, I would be tempted to yank every black root from her head.
I can’t detect anything sarcastic about this tale. It is a good story from the POV of the Yucatecan street dog. It makes me happier about taking in my two feral kitties, now angelic, clean and happy.
The only thing about this dog empathy stuff that bothers me sometimes is that it’s easy to pay more attention to animals than human beings who are sometimes in similar situations. It’s a lot simpler to deal with the animals.
John: I agree with you, if this dog is not protected by the “bus” ending by Betty, it means she did not really rescue him, and furthermore I will be really mad at Lawson for doing that.
Beryl: I’m sure you know about Evolucion, but have you seen their new “Who we are” video? Here you will see how they are using the rescue of abandoned and abused dogs to teach children about the prevention of violence…the theory being that abandoning an animal is an act of violence, and that if young people learn about violence, maybe they will be less likely to become violent. A wonderful example of taking the animal rescue concept a huge step further! Here’s the link, a very worthwhile 12 minutes:
http://evolucionyucatan.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=section&id=43&Itemid=93
Juanita,
The program at Evolucion is incredible.
Beryl,
Although I agree that much needs to be done to eliminate poverty in Yucatan and many other places around the globe, I’m not sure that those who work in animal rescue would say it is easier and simpler. Not when they are forced to euthanize vast numbers of dogs and cats every year because there is not enough space to house them and because far too many people are not prepared for the huge responsibility of caring for a pet. It’s truly heartbreaking.
I understand that Evolucion does not euthanize, which is a fabulous thing. Don’t get me wrong. I love and adore animals. But when I see a blind boy playing the keyboard on the corner, sitting with his mother who has no legs and is holding out the hopeful basket, or see women with black eyes, or hear of people dying in the villages because they can’t afford critical medications, I have to ask questions about priorities.
I just don’t see this as an issue of priorities. It’s just that good people are drawn to one issue or another. I guess it’s fair to say that it is easier and simpler to round up dogs and feed and house them than to provide the same service for humans. I just wouldn’t say that people working in animal rescue are “taking the easy way out” by not working with the poor and homeless. I would imagine that both go home every day and think that enough is not being done. And they would both be right.