Dogs In The Grass

After almost an hour of laying in the grass or when Stormy toddled off; Bluto is back on my porch tasting kibble left in the dish.

Blondie and Storm have taught Bonita to stay away from the food bowl until they no longer have an interest, since she was a baby. She still obeys that rule.
Bonita sees Bluto eating the kibble that seems to change the rules. As soon as he vacates the bowl, she is chowing down with abandon. Bonita usually chews quietly so she doesn’t raise her mother’s ire.
The relaxed way the girls are lounging around soaking up the sun, indicates a lack of interest in the macho war.

The white female from last week’s hunting party is hiding in the grass. Last week she was just out of season, only the virgin boys were still interested in her then, so the boys are not fighting about sex. I didn’t know she was here until she came out of the grass.

The hunting group was raucous. We could hear them coming, they scared game in their path. The island dogs can be as stealthy as a coyote. A couple of steps into the brush and I would not know them were there.
Bluto must not have liked my kibble; he’s home now. Stormy is snoozing contentedly on his porch. Snow White is in the forest probably with Sleepy, Dopey and Doc incubating inside her.
I can’t afford to spay every bitch that wanders into the neighborhood. There has to be another way.

Underground Turf Wars, A Dog Fight

Turf wars fought nightly have left our residents wounded and bleeding. Blondie's right front pastern is swollen with a deep puncture. She let me clean it with peroxide yesterday. As I stood straddle of her with my head inches above hers, my thoughts were with people I've seen at shows who have their necks and faces bit for less.
Blondie tolerated the scrubbing of her war wound, but I sensed she was ready to enforce her limit should I cross it. She's putting very little weight on it, needs cleaning again today.

Stormy's right ear is all chewed up. The hair on his neck is matted with blood. He’s at the bottom of our driveway and our neighbor's dog, Bluto is up here strutting around like the boll weevil, who found a home.


Closed gates and complete fencing are not the rule here, so the line gets blurred as to neighbor's dog verses street dog. Bluto has always stayed in his yard or right in front of his house; he's a home boy. Why would he leave home to hang with a couple of spayed bitches and be pissing all over my house? His actions tell me he is saying, "Mine, mine, and mine!"


During the night I saw Bluto curled up in a ball sleeping on our porch. He has a small healing tear in his sheath, which leaves his wanker exposed a bit. I need to talk to my neighbor to find out why his dog left home. This should be good.


Meanwhile, here comes Stormy up the hill. His slow, deliberate steps tell me how much he objects to Bluto's trespass. Stormy's path to the larger dog is not direct; he stops to cover Bluto's scent markings.


Bluto stands at the top of my car port ramp, growling a low controlled grumble. Stormy circles his way ever closer; it's like Popeye's little doot-ta-doot; it's coming.


Stormy's strides look well rehearsed like stylized samurai. When he arrives, it is by Bluto’s right side facing the same direction. Their butts are four inches apart, so close. Their heads are forty-five degrees apart, Stormy is barking, “Ruff, ruff, ruff.” He doesn’t look at Bluto, who is growling. Bluto’s eyes are on the exit into the tall grass, where he heads in that stiff legged way of walking; that says, “Watch-it stiff legs here!” And he’s gone into the grass.

Puerto Rican Lemonaide

Every day we go places on this beautiful island; we see dogs joined the ranks of the many Puerto Rican people feeding the Satos, the feral or island dogs. It’s a national past time; these people do love their dogs. This is a good society to be so broke. To me that says huge wonderful things about the people, la Corazon!

For a serious dog lover this is the opportunity of a life time. I get to meet some of the wisest dogs I have ever met in my life, yes, I said wisest.

How else can you say street smart without giving it a negative connotation?


In the states we are dysfunctional with our dogs at the opposite end of the spectrum from here.
We worship and adore these critters to the point we’re telling them they can get on our laps, if they’d only get up and give us space on the couch; then we take them to school to learn who the boss is. Smirk.
Thank heaven; we also have some pretty great trainers in the states! You’ve got to see how schizophrenic puppies must get when raised in the trip from worship & adore to you had better do what I say, now. And we didn’t see it coming when spoiled critters go from worshipped to what the f—are you doing to “King”, I have teeth; SEE!
In my behavior practice I have worked with the Kings, Princesses about to be dethroned. I won’t get into the psychology of a nation of loving people looking for a safe vessel for their love. We have found that in dogs; that is until we start looking for a little r-e-s-p-e-c-t.
Some of us create our own little monsters; that’s no surprise.
Adopting a Puerto Rican street dog is the answer for the respect starved mush mellow dog lovers. These “Satos” are respectful and submissive; so many skinny dogs follow me as I walk away from the food to give them space to eat without a stranger hovering.

The hardest thing for me about meeting, greeting and feeding island dogs is that I fall in love over and over again. I want them all.


Even an old salt like John Saccenti, Pres. of C.D.I., New Jersey who told me he encountered only nice, friendly dogs when touring the island with Tim Vazquez. John said that based on his experience the Puerto Rican Island dogs were a pleasant surprise. This was a lovely compliment coming from a man who trains animal control officers.


I want to that John and his organization for the lovely badge; it looks good on me.


Congratulations for another fine course in Puerto Rico, bravo!

HELLO PUERTO RICO, tourism opportunity here; it will be so much fun!! 

Dog Drama in Lares Mountain Side

In the mountain town of Lares a lady started feeding stray dogs. More dogs came, she started keeping them in her house. The house was full of dogs, she would no longer let family in to visit. She became ill and then add insult to injury; she was evicted.
Suddenly all of these dogs are back on the street waiting for this woman to take care of them. Animal Control Officer, Alma Febus to the rescue; she, alerted authorities, organized the capture of perhaps forty-five dogs and assisted the neighbors in an effort to feed the remaining dogs. 
One of the neighbors wrote on my face book news page that about twenty of these dogs were taken to Villa Michelle, which is a good shelter in Mayaguez where the dogs have a shot at being adopted before a lethal injection. The other twenty-five were picked up by the municipality. In some municipalities, that may mean they don't get past go and no two hundred dollars. For dogs that are sick or suffering, it's a blessing. What about the ones that aren't sick or suffering? A meager existence is still an existence.
Auswitch Island for dogs is my nightmare, but that does not negate the good many people are doing here or the love of the well intending. 

  

This past week Animal Control Officers Natalia Vega, Alma and I hiked up the mountain to see the make shift shelter the retiree tried to put together, so she could keep her beloved dogs. We tried to assess how many dogs are still in the area. In my opinion a credible current count is almost impossible as the dogs have scattered. 
What I do know is that the large number of dogs defecating on the roads in front of homes is a health hazard.
An island wide organized spay week twice a year will go a long ways towards getting control of the animals in a compassionate way befitting an island with the enormous heart of Puerto Rico.
The island's reputation and tourism would benefit by some good public relations. If we invite young veterinarian students about to graduate to the island to help, they'll feel happy about the good they are doing. 
After graduating these people with well paying careers will return to Puerto Rico where they have friends and warm feelings. 
Tourism opportunity here, HELLO, PUERTO RICO.
Taking care of our dog problem doesn't have to mean murder. We don't have the shelters; let's use what we have. Every neighborhood has dog lovers, who will get involved. 
F.O.I.C.C.A., ANIMAL CONTROL OFFICERS OF PUERTO RICO will lead the way.

Island Dog Hunting Party

This morning Stormy, Blondie and Bonita, the resident street dogs were full of burrs; it's a sign that they've been hunting. This visit we've only been feeding kibble of which they are not that fond. The neighbors' leftovers are meager. I've long thought that at least Stormy supplemented his diet with game. He is a picky eater, so I've been sure his trips through the brush were for hunting.

The dogs hang out in the street. They don't go running through the brush without a reason; it's not like they don't want to be seen by humans, say like coyotes. 

This evening just at dusk we hear a rustling in the woods. It's not the heavy sound of our neighbor's horses coming for a visit, but a pack of about six dogs, that I could see.

In the photo above that's Blondie greeting the hunters. All you can see is the white dog's head popping up. The dogs were scurrying around in the grass clearly in hunting mode, they barely noticed me.

The little Rottie mix came out of the brush just long enough for me to catch this shot. Peanut was in the hunting party. The rest were just a blur and off up the very steep hill they went.

Dusk is when the rats come out, so this was perfect time for hunting. The only other creature in the forest are mongoose, but they are out in the day. They are also a tough adversary, so it makes sense to me that the Puerto Rican island dogs supplement their diet by hunting rats or mice.

Stormy and the girls did not join the party. They took a walk with me. I searched to see if these guys were just taking a short cut somewhere. All I can say is straight up the side of the hill is no shortcut anywhere.

This just reinforces my suspicions that these island dogs hunt for a living when necessary or.... maybe, it's just a party.