“He carries the paper for me every morning. He’s a good old boy”.
“The big dog? Oh, he’s the neighbor’s. I know this because they always come looking for him”.
“His name is Jack and his ears are like big steaks”.
“BELLA! HER NAME IS BELLA” -guy working on the roof next door
There was a sign at the dock where we left from that had a photo of a golden retriever who had recently passed away. This was their new dock dog in training.
“This is mama, and here is her baby. People think she’s mean but she’s very nice”.
I didn’t set out looking for dogs in Mexico. They just kept popping up on the streets, or on old dirt roads, at bus stops and beside docks. I loved making conversation with the owners, giving me a great excuse to use those 3 years of Spanish I took in college to ask the very important question “Es este tu perro? (is this your dog) ?”. I couldn’t always understand what they were saying, or them me, but we had one thing in common: a mutual love for dogs. Which is just about the best thing ever in my book.