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My heart aches for the little border x terrier we called Stormy. Hit by a car the week before Christmas valiant protector, road warrior and most incredible friend to all in the neighborhood, was I hope gently put to sleep at an animal hospital in Arecibo.
Friend and Animal Control Officer Alma Febus called me to tell me that one of our Spanish only neighbors called to tell her to call me that Stormy was in a bad way.
Exceptional friend Lany from North Carolina found Stormy in an ant colony on the side of the road, cleaned the ants off and drove him to the veterinarian’s office where he was relieved of his suffering.
This tells you of his death, but nothing of the six years as the sato on the hill, during which we came to know him.
Everything I do on the island for or about dogs is because of this one little dog whose friendship meant the world to me. The stories of Stormy can’t be told just now; the tears flow too fast.
He was the first dog I ever hung around with that I was not in charge of, if that makes any sense. Whichever neighbor would be out near the road Stormy stood sentinel. Content to stand a few feet away he watched over the children because he was the neighborhood dog and loved us all.
With Stormy my quest to learn to speak dog rose to new height, thanks to you I learned more about dogs than thirty years of training dogs. You were the true educator.
Perhaps this will help me to grieve; I need to make peace with his death and our loss, so my focus can be on the living who need me. Good lord, there are so many in need.
Thanks for reading and may dogs be with you! Tricia
Those shifty eyed street dogs had me hoodwinked. The spoiled satos won’t touch this kibble and I thought it was crappy.
Let me tell you, the dogs at the beach were hungry enough, they ate it right down and wanted more, too.
I squeaked while opening the trunk with that, three new moms, tits flying in the breeze bounded across the parking lot stopping a few feet from my car. With tails wagging and mouths open in eager anticipation, they eyed me cautiously always at the ready to flee.
The more daring two took kibble from just three feet behind the car, my shy lady Wagged and wiggled until I brought it maybe fifteen feet behind the car before she felt safe enough to eat.
A meal for the girls, a couple of photos, the car is in drive and sitting all three in a row just outside the door with sweet smiling faces were moms ready to go home to feed the kids today.
And I thought I bought bad dog food, the satos in my neighborhood are going to hear about this. There are starving dogs on the beaches and you leave kibble in the dish for ants, hah.
Chi-ping said to tell you that we have a better class of street dogs in her neighborhood; she’s the little bitch with her tail straight in the air.
My dogs be with you and love in your heart.
Tricia
The island dogs are fed mostly table scraps, so kibble can be a tad foreign to them, but I think the brand I purchased must be crap. Two weeks later and they only want the milk I use to drown the ants.
Melissa, I have done taste tests before, they have favorite kibbles, but this is not one of them. It’s just sad that kibble can be so bad a hungry street dog turns his nose up at it.
They are only getting the kibble in the morning because I can’t take a chance of it being left in the night for rodents. Two full size collie boys will not eat over a cup of this stuff a day. Blondie and Chi-ping only lap the milk. Blondie, who is notorious for protecting food, looks disinterested when Bay gets up enough nerve to check out her dish.
I don’t buy kibble with dyes, but with so many to feed, I can’t afford the better brands. These dogs will eat rats, little lizards, trash; so what does that say about this dog food?
Since I don’t remember what I was feeding before, more taste testing is on the schedule. I wish we had some sample sized packs so we could really establish a preference, as it is the first brand they eat with a little gusto wins.
On a happy note, the obviously hungry Bay was the first to eat today hopping on the porch to chow down.
Today we’ll bring some food for the dogs by the beach in Aguadilla; perhaps they won’t be as picky.
Bay, the darling old collie sleeps outside my bedroom window. Smoki the cat can’t see the below the level of the window, but is acutely aware of his presence, looking out the window and acting concerned.
Today is the first day the dog has had the confidence and trust to come on the porch with us with both of us being steady and consistent in our approach.
Discarded dogs look so emotionally trashed after being dumped, that I can almost tell how long they’ve been on the street by the look in their eyes.
The first week a dazed what just happened; where am I look says scared and confused. Can you imagine the terror of the first night all alone in the street?
It would not anthropomorphic to suggest that a being raised in the safety of a yard or better would be scared; would it?
Confused, alone you go up to the nearest human with a scared low tail beat. Head down you can’t say what just happened to you; perhaps the human will see how forlorn you are and take pity, but no he is yelling and throwing things at you that hurt’ run, run away!
Dogs think we are good until we prove them wrong. When this happens we can still see in their eyes that they want to believe us, but they’ve been dumped and hit and chased away.
So when I get the I want to believe you, but I’m not sure if you’re an asshole look I know it will take a little time for this animal to trust a human again.
I am content to let a dog just be in my presence; he just hits the smooze button and you just can’t help fall in love with the guy. Bay is laying by his chair now.
As much as we enjoy the collies, I think it best we plan to re-home them. This is Puerto Rico; these are discarded collies requiring maintenance. They are not the type of dogs to make it as street dogs.
Bay is about to begin a rehabilitation program and Goofy is going to get some training.
As we clean and unpack, the dogs (Satos) are settling in to life on the hill with the return of the neighbors from the states.
Blondie protects all of the houses in her immediate territory or spot, but spends her time here, except for field trips.
Chi-ping, who visits home frequently, no longer wears my neighbor’s collar or spends nights in her yard. Chi-ping, Blondie’s sidekick and friend, loves to play chase games with the now fully bloomed big blonde girl.
Goofy, I mean Lassie, has to get in on everything in that way teenage males get their mouths going. His audibly snapping teeth are setting mine on edge. When Blondie or Chi-ping comes to me for attention, Lassie will not be permitted to snap or grab them by the neck for attention.
Blondie will take as much as she can before she beats the crap out of him. Much more tolerant than she was a few years ago, the old girl has mellowed, yeah.
Today I only had to stand in a protective posture to get Lassie to stand away from the old collie, Bay while he ate. Easier to manage each day, I find myself falling in love with the big brown eyes watching for direction. Gee, that can go for both these collies.
Over the years I’ve had a few collies in class, but never lived with one. Bay is a sweet soul man and Goofy; well he had me at, “Duh?”
Bay, who still doesn’t come on the porch, sleeps under my bedroom window at the back of the house; which has the cat all pissed off, meowing in that irritated yowl of his.
Oh yes, Smoki, the fifteen year old retired kennel cat, who complains as much as a Siamese, can be heard by the dogs on the porch who pay attention to all the meow, meow, meows.
Chi-ping has thought to dart into the house, but was easy to redirect. Smoki, known to herd aussies into the corner in his younger days, was in the posture that says, READY. Just what I need is the cat with attitude; of course he is, always and forever.
The dogs are napping, so time to do laundry. Enjoy your dog, Tricia
