Blondie, Stormy and I ate
leftovers, but there was never enough. We scoured the neighborhood for whatever
we could find. Stormy taught Blondie the
art of ratting. She hunted with confidence when we met. As a natural, my skills
were impressive from the beginning, given my family heritage, ahem Rat Terrier
here! Life was wild and exciting, until Stormy got killed.
Blondie said when the
Americans come back; they would feed us every day. We sleep on their porch most
nights. Blondie believed they were good people even if she didn't see them for
months at a time. What good are people, if one day they’re here and the next
they’re not? I only met them the day they took me to the vets for fixing. I wasn't impressed.
Blondie and I tagged along
with Geri, while he picked bananas. Next thing I knew Blondie tore down the
hillside barking, “They’re here. They’re here.” She squealed and wiggled all
over the place. I don’t know why I got excited. It’s catchy. These folks keep a
dog fed, but who the hell can understand them. They speak English; something
must be wrong with them. Every morning she plays a good morning game with
Blondie, who gets silly and wiggly. It’s fun, but when I got silly, I bit her
hand, she didn't like it. What did she expect? We were playing.
Full bellies, brushing and
petting, treats Blondie and I were two happy street dogs. I don’t need to be in
anybody’s house. A piece of cardboard to curl up on suits me just fine. We hang
with people, when they’re doing something interesting, and they’re being nice. I’ll
sleep on your porch or under the stars. It makes no difference to me.
The day the Animal Control
Officers, Adri Galler and Alma Febus came to visit changed everything. Adri
took the two collies living in the street with us to the Shelter Amigos de Los
Animales. They talked to the lady who has many small hairy dogs. People growl, too;
did you know that? Adri and Alma talked to all the neighbors. They didn't want
us. They didn't want us. Alma and Adri asked
Tricia what she wanted to do. Should they take us to the shelter? These ladies
seem nice enough, but I didn't want to go. This is home. What is a shelter anyway?
Tricia said Blondie will
be her dog. She loves her. Kirt told her that I would be no extra trouble and take me, so we went to the PetVet,
Dr. Gwen, who fixed us. I didn't get sick like last time. A few days later
Smoki, the cat and I were on a plane!
To be continued. Chi-Ping
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