The old collie with hope in his eyes walked up the driveway, while Blondie and I engaged in our morning greeting ritual in which I thump her all over as she squeals like a happy piglet. Lassie bounces around wildly certain it’s something great despite he hasn’t seen the ritual before.
Leave it to a teenager to screw up a good thing. Lassie jumped on me scratching my right thigh. I made the stop what you’re doing sound for Lassie, only Blondie cowered away like she’d been severly chastized.
Blondie, who hasn’t forgotten a thing from me is took this to heart. Lassie just looked goofy with eyes darting from me to Blondie. His face said that Lassie is taking in Blondie’s reaction to my correction; what he’s thinking about to be determined later.
If my neighborhood is a microcosm of the neighborhoods here, it appears to me that the Puerto Rican people are as good to the street dogs as they are able to be. Each family brings out meals for the dogs, feeding their favorite satos first.
The neighbors don’t seem interested in feeding the old collie. A couple have chased him away from the pan, while he is waiting to be the last to feed. My guess is they don’t really want him, he just refuses to go.
Our first few days here the old collie looked like he had given up, a few meals later this dog is starting to look good. In honor of my sister from New Orleans we named him “Bayou Bebe”; hear that Darlene, this one is for you.
Bay sounded the alarm with a deep bark during one of his episodes of showing us how protective a watch dog he can be. The rumor is that the breeder dumped him here before Christmas with the parting gift of a good sturdy blue collar.
This collie may not be that old, judging by his teeth. Kirt and I like him more each day; we’re thinking he is a really fine animal. Why would anybody dump him off in the street?
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