This Mexican dog

Pure Mexican, can’t you tell? She hung around me, panting, pawing the sand in front of my feet, friendly enough. Or maybe she wasn’t Mexican. Maybe she was American. Really, you can’t tell, can you? But that’s not what this story is about.

She wore a collar and a tag. A law abiding beast except her owner was nowhere in sight. Nobody leashes their dogs in Todos Santos, Mexico. Free range creatures, like horses at the side of the road. Up ahead, her brother trotted behind another beach walker. He had to be Mexican. His balls dangled between his legs like Christmas decorations someone forgot to put away.

Todos Santos specializes in ballsy dogs. They’re everywhere. Funny to see them swinging, ballast shifting with each stride. Caught me by surprise, same as getting whistled at as I walked into town one morning. Fifty-nine year old women don’t get hooted at much in Canada. I’d have been outraged in Canada, being a feminist and all. Stuck my nose in the air and ignored the fools. Different rules in Todos Santos. Noticing is good.

I’ve been nearly run over at home, though. Fuckers never saw me. Kept right on driving. I hurled my best foul language at them. Shook my fist. Stamped my feet. Pretty sure they didn’t hear me, either. But this Mexican dog? She stared me down. Flattered me with attention-getting high-beams.

Maybe she visited the beach every day as I did. She people-watched. I whale watched.

Oh, look. There. To the right, way off in the distance near the horizon line  – a small spout. Yes, it’s a whale!

I wouldn’t have noticed if it hadn’t been for this Mexican dog.

mexican_dog

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25 thoughts on “This Mexican dog

  1. Pingback: Fiction is a whale – The Mexi Movie

  2. You always spur a recollection wheel in my brain. That’s good, I’d say. All I’d need to do now is write it down, but for that I’d need to slay a few demons first. Anyway, here is the memory, just for you: I was walking my dog in my long blue dress after swimming, so you can imagine what state my hair was in. Pretty much goddess-like. We were in Piran, which is in Slovenia, my country of origin, and the sea was good. A local elderly fisherman, sitting in front of a bar which I was passing, did not quite hoot or whistle but said to himself, pretty convinced that I’m just another foreign tourist: “Hooo, look at that piece of…” Before he could conclude, I stopped, looking him in the eye and asked him in his own dialect to embarrass him more: “Piece of what exactly? Now I really wish to now.” He lowered his head and waited for me to pass while the dog tried to make him his bitch. Just as well.

    • This is going to sound a bit off, but I was mesmerized by the back ends of the boy dogs. You just don’t see unaltered male dogs much anymore, although they must be out there given that pups keep popping up! Speaking of pooches, have you read “A Dog’s Purpose”?

  3. Getting noticed in any language, feminist or not, is good for the spirit. Here in France the technique is a stare …. I’m with your other reader – I like a good ballsy shout out. Or at least the idea of it …. in truth I can’t remember the last time which maybe why I spend so much time talking to dogs 😉

    • You know, I’m kind of on the fence about the cat-call. It drove me mad and madder as a young woman because I perceived it as a threat. Now I just laugh and think they must be pulling my leg but I kind of enjoy it without acknowledging the perpetrators, even if they are pulling my leg. We’re complex creatures, aren’t we?

      • We just age wisely, I think. I have four daughters ranging in age from 30 down to 21 – it is really interesting watching their feminism (for make no mistake with me as a single mother bringing them up they are feminists to the core!) evolving and developing. Women are superbly complex creatures with wiles and guiles aplenty – as we learn how to use them properly it is heartening to see us gradually attaining more ground in the true quest for equal opportunity. Though I must say that I really can’t support Marine le Pen as a contender for the Presidency here in France even if she would be the first woman leader in a historically chauvinist country. Oops – I’m getting het up …. better go and stroke some Primrose!

  4. So while you flirted with the good looking dog,who posed so prettily the whale was busy photo-bombing and the men were busy noticing …. I think it’s great that these Latino type men feel it is their duty to tell a woman, no matter how many years she has, that she is noticeable and noticed. It’s one of the reasons I love Italy 🙂

  5. Lucky you Susanne – for being the recipient of a wolf whistle! So much for being 59! But then, age is just a number. And for being shown the whale by the dog. When we went to Santorini, we saw some very friendly dogs. Enjoyed their affection and attention. And the “ballsy dogs” – I cracked up when I read that 🙂

    • I sure was surprised, Shubha. I don’t remember the last time that happened – perhaps sometime in the 1970’s? Lucky you for visiting Santorini! Maybe its just us uptight North Americans who keep our dogs on a leash. I’ve encountered free range canines in other places, too and it always takes some adjustment. Maybe because they wander free they’re better socialized? I got a few growls but was never bothered by any of them.

  6. And that’s when you pet her and say, “Buen perro.” I mean, if she’s there, she should speak the language, yeah? lol
    Great post! — Enjoy the whale watching for both of us, but wear a hat to protect our porcelain visage. x

"The river flows both ways." (Margaret Laurence)

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