We are headed out of PLT. Back over the rutted road, past the cattle, flocks of sea birds and palm groves. I saw what I thought was an ant eater run off the side of the road and into the bush. I have never seen an ant eater for real, only on Mutual of Omaha’s WiId Kingdom, but if memory serves me, it was an ant eater. So later when I saw movement on the side of the-sorry excuse for a-road, I perked up.
“What is that?” We both looked carefully as Tom slowed the car down. It was a tiny brown puppy.
Most of the pets I have had during my life have been strays. They have either found me or we were both at the same place at the same time. So it was today. My path crossed with another stray.
We quickly thought of what to do. Do we have any food we can give him? Tortilla chips, coffee grounds and water were all we had to offer. We decided water was the best option. As I walked toward him it occurred to me he may be wild and run away. He didn’t. He got up and began walking toward me. He was so thin he almost lost his balance wagging his tail so hard. He was sweet and pitiful, full of caked-on mud and grime. My heart broke. He drank and drank and drank.
I thought of Jeff. He will have been dead a year on October 16th. I still have his ashes under my bed because I don’t know where to spread them. The only place he ever wanted to be was with me, so under my side of the bed makes sense for now.
I wanted to save this puppy and I knew I couldn’t. As I walked back to the car this tiny, half starved pup ran after me. I hated driving off and leaving him. Hated it!
A car with a “local” man and woman came by and stopped. They explained this kind of thing happens often in Mexico. I thought of how often it happens in the US too. They assured me someone would pick the pup up. Tom rationalized that with all the farmers in the area one of them would surely take him home. “Farmers can always use a good dog” he said.
I’m not so sure. Maybe, maybe not.