Friends still ask what it was about Mexico that I enjoyed so much while
living there.
My answer is usually the same: the weather, the food, the people. If I think
they are really interested, I tell them about the Mexican perros (dogs to you gringos) that are
everywhere. To me they are one of the delights of Mexico.
They certainly donât act like any dogs I ever knew in America.
They say animals pick up the traits of their owners. I believe it. Easy
going, non-aggressive and friendly are all words I would associate with the Mexican people and their
animals and they all seem to live in harmony. No leash laws needed there, just a look at old
perro and the command is understood.
If you drive or walk the streets of Ajijic you will encounter the perros. I
remember a day when no amount of honking of the horn would budge a sleeping dog from my path.
The street were too narrow to go around him, so I had to get out of my car and physically move
him over to the side of the road, while he continued to sleep.
It was such incidents that kept a smile on my face the entire three years I lived there.
Another day I saw a little pooch lift his
leg on the side of a building to relieve himself, only to fall over sideways in a deep sleep. It
was afternoon siesta time
for him and nothing was going to interrupt him.
I have been a walker for years and would not dare go out the door in the
U.S. without my
trusty can of Mace spray. Besides a stray dog, a few coyotes have crossed my
path. But after only two days in Mexico, I threw away my Mace. What was I going to spray?
The long-horned cows that roamed the lakeshore? As slow as they moved, it would take them a
week to fall over.
Or maybe the burros that sleep standing up in the square. Certainly not the
perros. They were
my friends.
I had one friend in particular. He lived in a little tar shack down by the
lake with five children I
had befriended. The ninos delighted in my daily visits as I would always
have a few candies
hidden in my pockets, which they would try to find. But I always had one
candy hidden away for
my special friend, their dog. He was a mangy-looking thing, his long legs
out of proportion to his
body because he was so thin. But those eyes, they looked at you and through
you. I called him
Perro (very original) and he came running to me every day. After the
children had said their
hellos, Perro would walk the rest of the way with me, running after sticks
I had thrown into the
lake, biting at the water like a silly child. This dog had no promise of
even his next meal, much
less his next day, but he was happy. He warmed my heart many a day when I
was feeling a little
homesick. It seems, when we are open to the possibility, we find friends
in the most unusual
places.
San Andreas Catholic Church is where you would find me on a Sunday morning.
Many a
time the congregation was entertained by a perro ambling up and down the
aisles looking for its
owner.
My Spanish being what it was, I understood very little of the sermon.
But it wasnât
necessary. I was getting Godâs message loud and clear. ăYou are in a little
piece of Paradise
and this is my gift to you. Enjoy!
While visiting some newly-arrived Americans one day, I immediately noticed
the difference
in their dog and my local friends. He was high-strung, and wouldnât stop
barking, even though
he had his own bed and bowl of food at the ready at all times. Given time, I
thought he would
learn the ways of Mexico. Relax, take it easy and make a friend.
I still walk every day here in my new home in Nevada but I am back to
carrying my Mace. An
encounter with a very large, unattended dog convinced me to do so. He got my
best sweater as
a trophy, and I got to keep my fingers. A long walk along the shores of a
lake and a nice siesta
on the hot cobblestones is what he needed, I thought. Sounds good to me!
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