We didn't adopt Blackie as much as he adopted us. He showed up at our ranch one day about three weeks ago, somehow managing to get under or over the fence, and determined to make himself at home. I first I objected, I thought strenuously, to both Stew and Félix, saying that we couldn't adopt a …
Continue reading The brief and tragic life of a dog named Blackie
The rainy summer season is slinking away without the landscape reaching its peak kelly-green hue: We've had only half the amount of rain we normally get. I gauge rainfall by the amount of water collected in our cistern and it's only half-full. No reason to panic though: As I write this, dark clouds hover auspiciously …
Continue reading Constabulary notes from here, there and yon
The story of Benji, the dog whose adoption by someone in the Centro we facilitated had a bittersweet ending, certainly not the one we expected.Still, it taught Stew and I how little we know about the ways of rural Mexico and also about the perils of hubris, that mythological Greek sin of arrogance—in this case how …
Continue reading Reality spoils ending of my happy dog story
One way to dinner late yesterday afternoon, barely three hours after uploading my previous post, Stew and I spotted a grayish dog on the opposite side of the road who was panting, exhausted but determinedly trudging somewhere. It was Benji returning home.We called her name, she answered, and I loaded her into the car. She didn't …
This Friday the 13th dawned fully intending, it seemed, to live up to its bad-luck reputation. Benji, one of the stray dogs that live outside our gate—and whom we thought had been adopted—ran away from its new owner and disappeared somewhere in San Miguel late Thursday. We woke up worried that some horrible thing would happen …
After our dowager mutt Gladys died several months ago, under sad and questionable circumstances, Stew and I made a solemn pact not to adopt another dog. I knew it was going to be a fragile promise, though, what with a canine chorale that assembles outside our front gate every day howling for food, a reassuring pat …
At the mere clang of the ranch's gate opening, they leap over the neighbor's stone wall, crawl out from under this or that bush or whoosh from down the road in a cloud of dust. On a banner day, there might nine or ten barking and yapping customers. On weekend mornings, though, only three or …
At roughly five months of age our fifth dog Felisa is staying relatively small. She is not going to be a miniature or a teacup anything, yet weighing just six kilos she is blissfully petite compared to our other dogs which start at nineteen kilos or roughly forty-two pounds. Even our two hefty cats weigh …
Ever since we bought the land for the ranch, almost five years ago, even before we broke ground, a wreck of an old mutt named Chucha became our constant companion. It was love at first sight you might say, at least on her part. We already had two dogs, who weren't too keen on a …
Though people ceaselessly praise the loyalty, intelligence and friendship of dogs no one really knows what goes on in those little canine brains. Sure, you'll hear some owners gravely aver that their little Poopadoodle peed on the rug "because she wants to get back at me" or was angry at something that happened two days …
El Rancho Santa Clara 