A Regalito

Last week around early morning I heard a desperate cry from what I thought was a dog. I looked out and noticed that the neighbour’s dog had his head out through the metal gate and my first thought was that he was stuck. I rushed out and that’s when I noticed a tiny brown lump below Carbon’s head (yep, he would be black as coal). The puppy was pitiable, hollering his little heart out. As I picked it up, I was appalled at how skinny it was, ribs jutting out and skin caving in between them with every breath. I couldn’t leave it out; the morning chill was still in the air. Besides, it was certainly famished.

So. . . I brought the little critter home and foraged for food suitable for such a young one. All I had was kibble for Queenie and a slice of cooked chicken. I crushed the kibble and minced the chicken and  watered all down with lukewarm water and down the hatch it went, the pup inhaling the food in almost frantic desperation.

Later went the search for how it had gotten there. Many surmised that the little one had been abandoned until I noticed a lady who walked daily with a retinue of about 4 or 5 dogs barking their way through the early mornings and late afternoons. I asked her if she knew the little dog, to which she said yes, that it was hers, but I could keep it as a regalito – a little gift. Then she disappeared and never walked back on that road again. Well. . . what to do?

First, I took her to the vet to get her examined and dewormed. She weighed in at 3 kilos or about six and a half pounds. She has a boxer look but with a longer thinner snout. The coloring and markings are definitely boxer mixed with ???. I was very unsure of Queenie’s reaction. I shouldn’t have worried. With her 7 litters, she was accustomed to wee ones and turned out to be very maternal. The dog who stood ready to attack any four-legged that crossed her path? What a stunning revelation!

Anyway, here are a few photos of Queenie and Mindy. Oh, by the way, she picked her name. As had her predecessor. I had kept the collar of a Lhasapoo that I’d kept for 16 years after I’d picked her from the pound. My daughter and I had

tried all kinds of names until we called Mandi and she came trotting towards us, tail wagging. So Mandi it remained. I tried the shortened collar on the pup and called “. . .Mindy” and you guessed it--she reacted immediately to the name and trotted towards me tail wagging furiously. So Mindy it will be. And that’s how a regalito can turn into a new addition to our little family of two. We’re now a threesome.

Boondocking Home! What?

I suppose this title is a bit of an oxymoron. . . Be that as it may, that’s exactly what my new life is now after an abrupt turnaround. A month ago now, my RV all packed up and ready to go, I got a visit from a friend who introduced her companion who happened to be from the area where I was born. This led to my being invited to dinner by Petra (the companion) the following day so that we could continue to converse in French. As I had no other transportation than my RV, I asked if I could park overnight near their place in Santillan, close to Tequisquiapan so as to leave for Oaxaca the next day. Petra and Michel acquiesced and I heard their story with considerable interest.

A couple of years before, they had arrived in Santillan in their fifth wheel, bought a lot and slowly, as the money would allow, built their lovely home while living in their fifth wheel. The yard was huge and I was invited to stay a bit longer. To make a long story palatable, here goes. I met with a friend of theirs who offered me a lot 40 by 90 feet for sale with wonderfully negotiable terms. Within two days the deal was concluded and I had hired someone to dig up the lot for a water reservoir and a septic tank. The work was completed a few days ago, and as soon as the rains stop, I will be moving on my lot, with water from my tinaco and a drainage pipe from my RV right into the septic tank. Imagine this—boondocking on my own lot!

Actually, this had been at the back of my mind as I had planned my move to Oaxaca. I was determined to keep on boondocking or find a way to have a place to myself other than rented accommodations. While the rented casita had been at first quite enjoyable, things changed drastically and much too swiftly to my taste, as I found myself neighbour to a Salon de Fiestas with parties for hundreds going on way into the night. While I adore Mexico, I must admit that it is on the noisy side, at least with three fiesta facilities nearby. Then came the building of two cabanas abutting my bedroom/office area. I could hear the drop of a nail between the building blocks as if it was coming from my closet. The future did not look promising. . .

Then was the slowly deteriorating state of my health as I kept wheezing and coughing, heart wildly palpitating, avoiding any of the many hilly sites near my house. It looked as if the altitude did not agree with me was my thought. That is until Petra on her visit remarked how musty the smell of the house was. I have lost my sense of smell so had never detected it before. When I opened the gigantic doors to my bedroom closet, which had not been painted, she exclaimed that the walls showed black mold, which I had mistaken for simple dirt!  No wonder asthma (NO! it is not MY asthma, I refuse to own that) got triggered. It appeared that I did not have to go all the way to Oaxaca after all. The once lovely casita had been the culprit, after all.

Again, to make a longish saga shorter, here I am in Santillan delighting in my vastly improved state of health, a lot at my beck and call to do with (that is according to my financial state) the black-ink sky filled with myriad stars scintillating brighter than diamonds, and a heck of an agenda on my hands! But I love it all. Now that I have the internet in my own rig, you can count on my posting regularly with news of the construction and my getting acquainted with Mexican rural life. Life is so very good!