Dogs seem to know when they are meeting a dog-person and welcome them into their lives with gusto. That love-at-first-sight connection Sambo and I had was no exception to this rule. This curious, loyal and energetic oversized black wiener dog decided I was a friend the minute my backpack hit the floor in his house on January 6th.
Our relationship grew quickly as the gristle and fat from my evening meals that I couldn’t stomach found their way from my plate to the floor. When I was lonely and yearned for companionship, but was too exhausted to begin conversing in Spanish, he would listen with rapt attentiveness as I babbled on in English about my worries and desires. His little legs served him surprisingly well while accompanying me on my runs and his petite body is the perfect size to curl up under my shadow with his head next to mine, while I adjusted my posture in downward dog.
While Alex was visiting, Sambo, like any perceptive individual realized he was second fiddle and kept his distance. But, upon Alex’s departure he quickly forgave my earlier discrimination and resumed his self-appointed role as the man in my life.
While I’ve always longed for a big, fluffy, slobbering, herding dog to call my own, I must admit this funny-looking little dog is a perfect companion. He is small enough to carry over all the bridges on our runs (he doesn’t like walking across bridges), indiscrete enough to spend three hours napping on my lap while I do computer work in a high-end café, mellow enough to attend Awamaki Health’s weekly meetings and burly and feisty enough to take on 3 dogs, each 4x his size that were beating up on his friend, the dog I call sad-looking-but-sweet-broken-leg-yellow-dog.
After four months in Ollanta, Sambo now attempts to follow me everywhere. My fellow passengers (all locals) looked on incredulously as he happily hopped into the combi van after me this Tuesday, and as I told him, in Spanish, that he couldn’t accompany me the town 30 min away and that he must return to the house. He has relocated his sleep space from a more comfortable venue and now rests directly outside my bedroom door, growling at family members that dare interrupt my rest. He accompanies me to Awamaki functions, patient visits, restaurants, the bar and the market. While I was violently ill with Typhoid and making trips to the bathroom every hour in the night, he loyally followed me up and down the stairs on each occasion offering moral support for my suffering.
Now that my time in Ollanta is drawing to a close I realize how much I will miss having this particular four-legged companion. There will assuredly be other dogs in my life, and I bet other gringas in his. But I’d like to think that the friendship we have shared here is something special.
i love dogs.
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