This post is for all of us who have lost a beloved four-legged partner. It was sent to me many moons ago when my dear Delphi passed away. It made me cry, yes but made me realize she and all the others will always be in my heart and I will always find room for more. I have in turn passed this on to friends after the loss of their dog. It is beautiful. We must remember that Dogs Never Die, they simply do not know how.
It was written by Ernest Montague and he says – I wrote this several years ago in memory of Bolo, a black and white Pit Bull who would always go for a walk, right up to the day he died. He might only get 15 feet before he stopped and looked at me and gave me the look: ‘I can’t go any further. But don’t you think for one minute I’m done walking’.
“Some of you, particularly those who think they have recently lost a dog to ‘death’, don’t really understand this. I’ve had no desire to explain, but won’t be around forever and must. Dogs never die. They don’t know how to. They get tired, and very old, and their bones hurt. Of course they don’t die. If they did they would not want to always go for a walk, even long after their old bones say: ‘No, no, not a good idea. Let’s not go for a walk.’ Nope, dogs always want to go for a walk. They might get one step before their aging tendons collapse them into a heap on the floor, but that’s what dogs are. They walk.
It’s not that they dislike your company. On the contrary, a walk with you is all there is. Their boss, and the cacaphonic symphony of odor that the world is. Cat poop, another dog’s mark, a rotting chicken bone (exultation), and you. That’s what makes their world perfect, and in a perfect world death has no place.
However, dogs get very very sleepy. That’s the thing, you see. They don’t teach you that at the fancy university where they explain about quarks, gluons, and Keynesian economics. They know so much they forget that dogs never die. It’s a shame, really. Dogs have so much to offer and people just talk a lot.
When you think your dog has died, it has just fallen asleep in your heart. And by the way, it is wagging its tail madly, you see, and that’s why your chest hurts so much and you cry all the time. Who would not cry with a happy dog wagging its tail in their chest. Ouch! Wap wap wap wap wap, that hurts. But they only wag when they wake up. That’s when they say: ‘Thanks Boss! Thanks for a warm place to sleep and always next to your heart, the best place.’
When they first fall asleep, they wake up all the time, and that’s why, of course, you cry all the time. Wap, wap, wap. After a while they sleep more. (remember, a dog while is not a human while. You take your dog for walk, it’s a day full of adventure in an hour. Then you come home and it’s a week, well one of your days, but a week, really, before the dog gets another walk. No WONDER they love walks.)
Anyway, like I was saying, they fall asleep in your heart, and when they wake up, they wag their tail. After a few dog years, they sleep for longer naps, and you would too. They were a GOOD DOG all their life, and you both know it. It gets tiring being a good dog all the time, particularly when you get old and your bones hurt and you fall on your face and don’t want to go outside to pee when it is raining but do anyway, because you are a good dog. So understand, after they have been sleeping in your heart, they will sleep longer and longer.
But don’t get fooled. They are not ‘dead.’ There’s no such thing, really. They are sleeping in your heart, and they will wake up, usually when you’re not expecting it. It’s just who they are.
I feel sorry for people who don’t have dogs sleeping in their heart. You’ve missed so much. Excuse me, I have to go cry now.”
Many of you know the story. Me packing up and leaving my comfort zone. Headed south to Mexico with a few belongings and my dog, my best friend Seven. We crossed the US/Mexico border without a question. “Have a nice time” they told me. And for 5 months that is exactly what I did with a few little hic-ups along the way.
March 15th. I decided not to cook that day, I wanted to go again to this fabulous little café down the road. Put on some clean clothes, told the dogs to be good and I will be back soon. It was around 12:30, the sun was shining and the café was just around the corner, well a leisurely 25 minute walk. Suddenly without warning there was a van from the Mexican Migration and 2 cops on their 4-wheelers. Pasaporte y papel, por favor. Now because of my easy entry into Mexico by car, my passport was not stamped. So as far as the Mexican Migration were concerned, I was there illegally. Yes I take part and only a very tiny part of the blame here for not insisting that my passport be stamped, but I had the paper work for the car and my Seven, so I did not worry.
I tell everyone my story but they do not believe me. As the title say, Truth without Proof ain’t worth Shit. I am finger printed, photographed and told to remove all my jewellery and hand everything over including cell phones. I cannot return to my house. My dogs. My Seven, my Stella. They were my only concern at that point, my babies. It was obvious that I could not go back to house. My dear friend saved the day, went to feed and play with my dogs and she brought my passport which I was told I needed or it could be longer that I would be held. How long? I was never told. I was given a meal and told to sleep. A 10×10 room is what I had with 2 bunk beds. I am thankful that there were no other “illegals” with me. Eventually I found myself signing a whole bunch of papers that I was told would allow me to re-enter Mexico. Six hours have gone by. By this time I am a nervous wreck. I cannot stop shaking, crying with both anger and fear. I manage to get a couple of hours sleep and I am told that I must be taken to the migration centre in Mexico City and be kept there until “my case” is reviewed and a decision is made on what they are going to do. At this point only a handful of people know what has happened. And truth be known did I? I had no idea that my friends and family were working to resolve this and get me home. I had no access to the outside world.
I was given the essentials to clean myself and then the ride to Mexico City in the same van followed by a police car. Arrival at the deportation place. Again everything has to be handed over. I am given a bag with the essentials, 2 blankets, a quick body search, more papers to sign and then the door opens into where I stayed for eight days. Eight days of my life that I will never ever forget. This is the only picture I can find of the centre I was in, taken in 2008 from this article. Really not much has changed in 10 years.
deportation centre
Cold showers, no towel, sign for toilet paper, sign for 3 meals a day which looked like something the dog threw up, line up for detergent, line up for diapers or sanitary towels. Phone calls can only be made certain times of the day. And my God if you asked one minute after the alloted times, you missed your opportunity. One day this guy came in and was blabbing about something for half an hour. When I asked if I could make a phone call, he said no it is past time. I said yeah, cos you have talked for half an hour so I missed it. He let me make it but when I called my friend was not home! The gate to the dormitories was closed around 10 and not opened til 9am the following morning after the head count. No lights out, you sleep with bright flourescent lights. The yard was size of maybe 2 basketball courts. Walls of 12 feet and topped with barbed wire and was watched by employees of a security company. Making us wait to go outside was crazy – where were we going to go? Not unless we grew wings. The excuse was so the place would be cleaned. Mexico is ripe with fresh vegetables and fruit at amazingly low cost, there was no reason why the food should be so bad. In 8 days I had one orange, 2 slices of lime and one piece of watermelon. The odd colour of the vegetables in the food made it hard to decipher what it was. The food was served on styrofoam plates and make sure you damage it before throwing it away. I was told that the plates were taken from the garbage, rinsed and reused the next meal.
I think I was the first Canadian there as the international dialling code was not written in one of their many books. You are allowed one free phone call a week. So you better have all your facts together not to miss the window. Every federal migration officer I spoke with knows that there is a serious problem with land border crossings. I said fix it! They said that is never going to happen. I arrived on Friday and then it was yet another holiday in Mexico, so nothing would be done until Tuesday. I wasn’t sure if I could make it. My friends told me to be strong. It was really difficult. You are helpless. You are a number. You are nothing. Your life is in the hands of strangers. I now know what it feels like to be a caged animal pacing, pacing, pacing.
As the days meld into each other, one becomes numb, void of any feelings. Then there were days when I felt I could take no more and I would sit there and cry. One family took me under their wing. They were from El Salvador and seeking asylum in Mexico, because if they returned, they would die. They had already been there 35 days. She was a strong woman and gave me strength while I was there. I missed them when their day came for them to leave but so happy for them. I intend to keep in touch. There were many who were looking to go to the US from Honduras, Guatemala, Chile, Peru caught before they made the border and sent back to their home countries. Many escaping abusive relationships with kids in tow and/or pregnant. Their lives on hold as mine was.
Daily I was worried about Seven and Stella. They are my life. But I shouldn’t have been, my friend arranged to put them in this kennel very close to where I live. They were safe and looked after by an amazing couple who run Caralampio and their Facebook page where these pictures came from.
kennel time
Seven at camp
Stella at camp
Now it was mid-week and by now the lawyer who my friends and mum paid for was working on getting me out at any time. Manana, manana. I know things move slower in Mexico, but for me these days were an eternity. The day finally arrived. Friday March 23rd. I was told that the migration agents who picked me up 8 days ago would be taking me to the airport at 4pm and bringing with them my passport so I could leave the country. I was not deported and there is no record of me being in Mexico illegally for the past 5 months.
With a flurry I was told to grab my belongings and the 2 blankets that were given me. I was leaving and it was way before 4pm. More papers to sign. Grab my things that were put in a safe, check that they are all there and then back in the van to the airport. Walking through the airport terminal with 2 immigration officers get quite a lot of looks. Yep, I am the bad ass Canadian lady of 68 years being sent out of the country, have a good gander. Many checks, more forms to sign. They stay with me until I am walking down the ramp to the plane. I feel for them, do they feel like shit? I bloody hope so.
The free flight back to Canada with Aero Mexico was great and I took full advantage of the free booze, I figured I deserved it at this point. You know how one always complains or hears complaints of bad food on planes? Well let me tell you it was like heaven to me and I must have devoured it within 5 minutes, right down to the last bread crumb. Settled down to a some shows and began to relax a little. Customs in Canada, yes I was questioned. I was away for 5 months, declaring nothing and carrying only a small back pack. They had to make sure I didn’t have a kilo of cocaine on me. My best friend met me and drove me to my mum’s.
What now? After 3 busy days back in Toronto filled with tears and laughter, I have returned to Mexico. My passport has been stamped and I am legal for 180days. I have my dogs, my best friends back. Where I wonder will I go from here?
It seems I have always had more than one animal that shares my space. There was a time for a few months after Devon passed away that my house was void of any four-legged friends. I thought that the time had come for me to live alone. I couldn’t do it. My house was empty and sad. First came a black cat who hung around for a while but he did not stay. I searched and searched to no avail. Then came a little kitten who also did not stay too long. I tried to get her back inside but she was having none of it. Then came Lucy, I watched her come into this world and took her under my wing when she was 6 weeks old. Then came Seven, my baby boy who has been beside me now for just over 4 years. Then came Lucy’s mum and her sister. We were one big happy family. It was possible to take all 4 with me but not practical. The 3 cats have a fabulous home with my friend Ruth and I can see from her pictures they are very happy. Sure do miss them though.
Lucy Cat
Baby
Mama
It was not long after I arrived in Tepoztlan this little kitten who looked so frail was crying at my window. She came right in and made herself at home. Seven was not concerned at all having lived with cats all his life and immediately accepted her into his fold. But she had a collar so she must belong to someone. I put a notice in a group on Facebook and found out that she belonged to a young girl who was staying next door!! This little one made frequent visits and was welcomed every time.
Lost kitten
I then saw a picture of a little dog that was found wandering the highway between Tepoztlan and Cuernavaca who needed a home. I was smitten, took her in and named her Stella. She too has one blue eye and one brown eye, wall eye. Well what a journey this has been since she arrived. Lovely, she came with fleas. Fleas. I hate fleas. They have thankfully all gone for now but the season is knocking on the door and I am keeping a close eye on any invasion. Seven was not that impressed with this feisty little girl but within a couple of weeks they couldn’t stop playing. Another reason for my move, I needed more garden space for the two to romp and play. That was fine until Stella found the escape route through the broken fence on the street. I cannot count how many times I chased and caught her. This was not cool. One day upon returning home, I let the dogs out and before I could bat an eye, she was gone. I searched til dark but could not find her. I was sad but what could I do?
The next morning I see that I have been tagged on Facebook with a dog that has been found. It was Stella!! I immediately got in touch and guess what? Stella had escaped from her also! She had travelled across town close to where I used to live. Was she looking for the old house or maybe looking for Elmer’s dogs? I was ready to trek up there and start looking but deep inside I did not think that would work. Then another lady posted Stella’s picture saying she had found her in the morning. Luckily she was confined and could not escape again. I went by taxi to pick her up but as taxis here are unlikely to take a dog on board, we walked home. An hour later we arrived and she was greeted by Seven and my neighbours dogs all wondering where she had been. She was exhausted and slept for 24 hours.
My question is once a street dog is she always going to be a street dog? One thing I knew for sure was that she needed to be spayed right away. It was Saturday and first thing Monday morning I paid a visit to my vet, told him the story and said it is time. She nor I can wait 2 more months. It has to be done now. The next day she was walked to the vet and had the big op. Hopefully this will calm her down. Now to get the fence fixed. And life will be good again. Until then she is chained. It is not something that I like to do but I will not be chasing her all over town again.
One thing I have been blown away with is the cost. With all her shots and the spay it comes to just over $100Canadian. In Canada I would be looking at closer to $1000. That being said, I understand why there are so many strays and so many animals that have not been sterilized here in Mexico. $100 to me is an incredible deal but to most here that is a lot of money. Most vets here have campaigns that offer ridiculously cheap spay/neuter weeks, I wish more people would take advantage. But as I have learned Mexico’s animals are only just beginning to get a voice. It will be some time before the general public accept responsibility for the animals in their homes. If she escapes again and I cannot find her at least she will not be producing more unwanted dogs on the street.
For now she is safe with Seven and I. I do hope it remains that way. And of course it is only Seven that is on the bed, he will not let her up!
