Love and the Power of Puppies

Happy Independence Day, Costa Rica! Layne and I are missing the parades and festivities today, preparing for our departure on Wednesday, but we share an appreciation of the freedoms with which this nation is blessed. Those of us who live in a democracy with fundamental rights guaranteed and a voice in our government should count our blessings every day and recognize our good fortune as compared to many others around the world. (Here are local students practicing their parade routine without the blue, red and white banners they will carry in today's Independence Day parade.)

Yes, I know I said my most recent post would probably be my last for a couple of months but our life with Winston just demands a short piece today. We are so very grateful to our friends Chris and Sue for agreeing to provide him a loving foster home while we're away but we do dread leaving the little guy behind. He adds such delight to everyday things. Just a short walk around the neighborhood can turn into a special moment.

Yesterday I took him out to practice his "heel," "sit" and "come" commands, hoping to leave a more well-mannered doggie with Chris and Sue. After a little refresher course under our carport, he and I headed down a quiet road nearby that has few loose dogs or fast cars to bother us. Toward the end of this street is a house with a bunch of dogs behind fences that always set up a clamor of barking as we walk by. As made our way up the next hill, I looked behind us to see the Tico gentleman of the house following us with a little bundle in his arms. As he approached, I realized he was carrying two very small puppies.

The man has often greeted us on our walks, calling out "buenos dias" and shushing his pack of hounds for our benefit, occasionally coming out to the road to chat with us in Spanish. So yesterday I stopped and held a curious Winston in check while he came up the hill toward us with his arms full of puppy.

And adorable puppies they were, so small, hardly a few weeks old, I would say. He explained that their mother had been killed on the road only one day after they were born and of the five puppies left orphaned, only these two had survived. He showed me their docked tails, a natural trait he said, and shared their Spanish names, which I didn't understand, of course. Counting these two, he said he now has ten dogs! Yikes!

It was then I realized what a cool photo he and his pups would make so with his permission, I took a couple of shots and showed them to him, gaining a big smile for my trouble. As he walked back to his house, he sat the puppies down on the road and encouraged them to "venga," or come along behind him. It made a very cute scene.

Winston and I soon turned around and hiked back toward home. When I heard a pickup truck behind us we stepped off the road so it could pass, but instead, it stopped and the old gentleman asked me to show his friends the photos I had taken. He then asked if I could print copies for him, which I readily agreed to do, hoping I would find time to get them back to him.

Yours Truly with our own puppy Winston

So this morning Layne, Winston and I retraced our steps from yesterday, stopping by his house

with the prints. He invited us in, got the puppies again and showed them to Layne, fairly beaming with pride as he told the story of saving their lives, finding a way to feed them, keeping them warm with an electric pad. He thanked us for the pictures and we bid him and his pups adieu until we return in November.

And now, once again, I bid you adieu as well. Pura Vida!

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Blame It On Winston!

If I have been delinquent in posting to this blog, it's all Winston's fault. He's just so darned demanding! Always wanting a pet, or a walk or needing to go out to pee or poop (house-training is going very well!) or just looking so cute, I can't resist laying down on the floor and snuggling up to him. Then there are the hilarious puppy moments, such as today when Layne brought home a new toy for him. As soon as he figured out that it was "his," he ran proudly through the house and out into the backyard with a mouth full of plush plaything where he proceeded to thrash the little Santa Claus doll mercilessly, as only a puppy can. 

The new dog Frisbee he's yet to figure out but we have hopes for great fetch games as soon as he understands how to pick the disc up. So doggie duties are my excuse for the delay in blogging, ok? I'm sure all you dog-lovers out there understand completely.

Sit. Stay ... OK, we got Sit.

Then there's the training. Today while Layne went alone to the feria, Winston and I took a walk along a deserted road nearby where we worked on "sit," "stay" and "heel." As you can see from the photo, his "sit" is coming along nicely and he's very good on the leash, although I'm not sure if he has fully grasped the whole "heel" concept or if he just likes walking next to me. "Stay" is another matter altogether. When I tried to lay down the leash to take a better picture, he took that as permission to come over for a pet. After all, he had "sat" for a full thirty seconds, hadn't he?

Of course, he's also required some medical attention this week since he went in for the dreaded neutering on Tuesday. All went well but he was one drunk puppy when he got home that afternoon and one hungover pup the next day. By day two, he was back to his happy little self, especially so since I figured out how to bury his antibiotic pill inside a little chunk of raw hamburger. Oh, baby! Is that good!

He is now officially famous, with people at the feria last week recognizing him on sight and friends driving by hollering "Hey, Winston Churchill!" At the feria, one lady actually was so excited to meet him, she exclaimed to Layne, "Wow, I've met a star today!" Such is the power of the press, I suppose. Next thing you know they'll be asking him for a paw print.

On a completely different topic (who needs a segue?), this beautiful Turquoise-browed Motmot landed in our mandarina tree last week and I hurried to the doorway to sneak a few photos. 

I love these stunning birds and was thrilled to have one in our yard. I'm told that they are called "bobos" by Ticos, which means stupid because they nest near the ground in an earthen bank or a quarry, for instance, where their eggs are an easy target for predators. Whatever their I.Q. may be, they certainly get an A+ on the beauty thing.

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No Pura Vida for the Pit Bull

Our sweet Roscoe gone again

This post will be a bit of a rant, I’m afraid. Our sweet neighbor pit bull Roscoe has disappeared once again and, unfortunately, I think I know why. He had not been neutered. That’s it in a nutshell. He’s a “teenager” now at almost one year of age and those hormones are raging. It’s only natural that he would head out looking for a girlfriend, and being such a pretty dog (and of a breed that for some inexplicable reason people seem to want), someone has taken him in and now has him restrained. It worries me so much that he’s chained up somewhere or being taught to be mean or otherwise being mistreated. Or perhaps he’s still running the streets, now hungry, lost, confused and wet here in the rainy season. And, of course, he’s no doubt out there making puppies that no one wants and that will end up as malnourished strays, themselves un-neutered and making still more unwanted pups. It’s a terrible vicious cycle.

Some Grande Cahonies

As fond as we are of our landlords and their adult son Estevan, whose dog this was, I have to say that they suffer from the all-too-common Tico attitude of negligence about having dogs spayed or neutered. In fact, sad to say that in this historically “macho” society, the idea of castrating male dogs is anathema to most men and even some women. When I suggested to Eduardo that the reason Roscoe had begun running off was because of his desire to mate, he discounted the idea completely, saying it’s only because they are not home all the time and the entire property has not been fenced. Such a span of fencing, however, would be prohibitively expensive, he said, shrugging his shoulders,  resigned to the loss of Roscoe. Although there may be some truth in that, at least in terms of the benefit of full-time supervision for the dog, I have no doubt that the sex drive was much more of a motivation to roam than absent humans.

When Roscoe was still only a puppy himself, a young stray dog began hanging around here. He was a pathetic little guy, skinny and insecure, tail between his legs and a hangdog look in his eyes, but he and Roscoe became pals and spent hours playing happily together. One afternoon when I was up the hill in our community garden behind Odie and Eduardo’s house, I found Estavan there picking fleas or ticks off of Roscoe and scowling at the stray, trying to run him off. As we talked, I learned that he disliked having the homeless dog around as he was giving Roscoe fleas. “So,” I asked, “are you going to have Roscoe neutered?” “No,” he quickly replied. “Well, then,” I said, “you know Roscoe’s going to be out there making more strays just like this one.” No comment from Estevan. Clearly, he did not consider that to be his problem.

The plight of stray dogs and cats has troubled Layne and me the entire time we’ve been in Costa Rica. During our first spring here when we lived up the mountain in Alto del Monte, a couple of emaciated young dogs made their way into our fenced compound, obviously hungry and looking for a handout. Since our neighbors in the duplex owned a couple of small dogs themselves, we gave the puppies some dog food and tried to figure out what to do about them. Down the road from us was the Lighthouse, a wonderful animal rescue operation run by a dedicated Gringa named Frances and her long-suffering husband Bruce. With a phone call, we learned that Frances had a spay and neuter clinic scheduled that weekend and that, although her household was full of other homeless critters at the moment, we could bring the dogs there for neutering at least. Given that the dogs were too undernourished to walk down the road to the Lighthouse, we bummed a ride from our neighbors and took the dogs for care that Sunday. They were bathed, neutered and as far as we know, made a recovery from their sad condition. Though she didn’t really have room for them, Frances did agree to keep them and try to find homes for them. For some of the stories of Lighthouse rescues, check out Frances’ blog: http://mrbudbud.blogspot.com/.

 

But most stray dogs are not so lucky. The problem is massive and the answer is education, which is what Frances says she focuses on by teaching the children in the neighborhood how important it is to give proper care, food, exercise and medical attention - including neutering! - to their pets. Perhaps the next generation will have a more enlightened attitude about other living creatures and how unkind it is to leave pets with their reproductive capability intact instead of giving them a happier, more carefree life without that drive to procreate.

But to end on a lighter note, this amazing looking bird landed on a limb just outside our back patio today and let out a loud - and I mean loud! - series of screeches. I hurried out with my camera and caught this shot. It was large like a parrot but with a snow-white breast and a black mask. I wish I knew what kind of bird it was but have no idea. Just more of Costa Rica’s incredible fauna!