Mazeltov! or something...

Typing this on my iPad in a hotel room in Tucson, I will be brief because this keyboard is too small for really articulate expression. it also changes words very stubbornly. I tried to say I miss Chica my dog and it turned out Chicago! I am on my way to CA for my son's wedding! never thought that would happen. Drove up with a British couple who are flying home. A great choice of traveling companions, they kept me amused and shortened the trip even tho we had to crawl through Hermosillo. I would upload a photo of Chica who I miss so much but I haven't figured out yet how to do that on an iPad. so little time, so much to learn...

Dog and Cat of the Week: Cherie and Sugar

This is Cherie, looks like a white lab, six years old and living with a family in Guaymas, but neighbors are threatening to hurt her (it's kind of a rough neighborhood). We've had to tell them that the Center is full up. I'd take her in a hot second if I could, but she's an outdoor dog, doesn't even like to go in the house, and I don't really have an "outdoors."

Here's a young white mama cat with her litter of three (one was off-camera somewhere) stashed in a woman's garage while waiting for a new home. They all need their shots, probably worming, and when they're weaned the mama needs to be spayed. I'll call her Sugar.

Where's that copy editor?

I couldn't resist sharing this head-scratcher in today's LA Times about a man found burned to death:

"It was unclear whether he was alive at the time of his death, said Lt. Matt Burson."

Raining cats and dogs

Did I mention that we have started another dog rescue center here in San Carlos? Officially we opened in February, with a rented lot and a casita for our caretaker Juanita, and with some fixtures from the old refuge (which closed abruptly last year) and a lot of donated materials (concrete, fencing, gravel) we have created a new reality for dogs that need a safe place while they're waiting for new homes. We call it the San Carlos Pet Adoption Center.

We immediately were filled up to capacity with dogs, as you might expect, and now when we get word of even more dogs people want to bring us, we are having to turn them away. Besides the fact we're running out of space, we recently found mange on some of our charges, and don't want to take in more only to see them get it. Today we got together and bathed 12 dogs with a mite-killing shampoo, followed by a skin-healing soap and a hot-spot spray. Quite a job, but the dogs were all patient with us.

Perky looks less than perky at the moment because she's just been spayed

A young pit bull mix named Perky is tied up in a yard behind a furniture store while we try to decide who's going to rescue her. Her owner took off for California and left her here, under the illusion that she was going to be taken care of. Someone stops by to feed her, but she has no comfortable crate to sleep and feel safe in. The Capt doesn't want her here, concerned that we'd never be able to leave Perky alone at home with our dog Chica and our cat Fé.

Meanwhile, a woman named Cathy found a young mama cat with three nursing kittens in her yard, and she's worried because she has company coming, with their dog. We'd like at least to get the kittens wormed and vaccinated and when they're weaned, to have the mother spayed. But where do they go in the meantime? Everyone I've called has said they couldn't take her, but they'll call their friends. I took what hope I can from that and asked Cathy if she could set up a temporary space in her garage for the kitties.

We're learning a lot through this process. We found a vet who not only was willing to come from Guaymas to the Center to vaccinate dogs, but only charged us $300 pesos which comes to less than $30 US. That's the kind of support that keeps us going.

3rd Day of Siege

I live in a beautiful place in Mexico. It's a small, comfortable town with all the amenities, a fabulous view of the sea and the mountains, a fine anchorage for our boat. But it's also a popular mecca for people living in less appealing surroundings, arriving for their Semana Santa vacations. Semana Santa means Holy Week, and  I read Marilyn's account on Mexican Trailrunner of how they celebrate Easter in Lake Chapala with a stab of envy. A pageant, a procession, all that color and theater, so much beauty.

Here it's an endless procession of cars creeping past and the Mexican version of tailgate parties, with thousands of parked cars surrounded by young people standing around, seeing and being seen. Instead of celebrating the risen Christ or the coming of spring, it seems the only thing celebrated here is beer. Most of these kids don't have the money to visit bars and restaurants, so they get by from Thursday to Sunday morning on cerveza, pop and junk food they buy from roadside stands, tossing their wrappings on the ground, sleeping in their cars, on the beach or people's yards. A cleaning crew miraculously carries away most of the trash by mid-morning, just in time for a new inundation.

Order is kept (more or less) by a huge contingent of imported police who keep the cars moving (more or less) and prevent drivers from trying to make turns against traffic that would have the effect of slowing the flow any more. Barricades are put up at the gloriettas (Mexican word for turn-arounds) so that if you need to make a left turn you must first drive to the far end of town where the traffic has thinned. It can take three hours to travel five miles.

The only benefit to this annual invasion is that many of the local businesses make good money, just when they need it: before the beginning of summer when the tide of business ebbs thanks to the mass exodus of the snowbirds who make up a large percentage of our population.

What annoys is not that there's a steady three-day influx of new visitors to town, but that when they get here they entertain themselves by cruising up and down the main thoroughfare (which unfortunately is the ONLY contiguous route from one end of town to the other). I know cruising is a popular pasttime/mating ritual in the States too, dating back to the Fifties when you could fill your tank for a couple of bucks. But I never went cruising, just didn't have friends in that crowd. I didn't really understand the attraction. One might say I was culturally deprived.

When I ask my friends here what they get out of strolling into town (NOT driving), they usually say, "We just like to sit and watch the people parade." They're no doubt referring to the young and the beautiful who predominate in this crowd; people in their teens and early twenties,  dressed in their best come-hither outfits, anxious to meet and mate. Easy on the eyes. Add to this the smell of exhaust and roasting meat, and the throb of earsplitting music from dozens of speakers set up in dozens of Tecate beer stands to amp up the excitement and stir the blood. But you see no dancing in the streets. Just driving, walking and standing around.

We're only a couple of blocks from the main street, but we turn on our fans at night to create white noise, so all we can hear is a constant thump of music, like the heartbeat of a gargantuan beast. Our neighborhood is gated and guarded, but I know people whose yards become campgrounds and outdoor latrines.

Tomorrow, Sunday, the chaos will subside as the traffic ebbs back out of town and the miracle cleaning crew wipes away most traces of their presence. I'll be able to go to the store by Sunday afternoon and it'll only take me a half-hour. The Siege of Santa Semana will be over for another year. Gracias a Díos.