Where´s Walter?

I always subscribed to the ¨Dogs are people too¨ line of thinking. If you´re a dog person, you know what I mean. Our family dog Whistey was definitely part human. He was always respectful of personal space, and only got up in your face when he really needed something. He didn´t rush to eat his biscuits in the morning; he ate them neatly, using both paws to hold them as he nibbled away politely. If he had an accident or misbehaved, his embarassment was visible. He had a certain dignity about him.

My Walter, albeit still in his puppyhood, certainly has a different character, but is no less human than the late great Whistey Basham. He´s got this sadness in his face--a knowingness that tells you this puppy has seen it all, and it´s made him tired. The look of defeat he wears is a warning that life isn´t always sunshine and rainbows. Take it from a puppy who knows.

Do we believe dogs have past lives? He is only eight weeks old but his malaise is so convincing.
I know this dog is special because he has even captured the hearts of Ngobes who, though they often have dogs, treat them poorly or don´t feed them enough (or at all). But Walter? They see his face and ask ¨Is he OK, Cati? You should buy him milk.¨Which always makes me laugh because it´s such a luxury that they don´t even buy it for their children, let alone a lowly perrito. I took him by the school the other day, and two of the teachers said, ¨Why does he look like that?¨I don´t know; he just does. He lives the life of Riley compared to all the other dogs, but that miserable coutenence leaves the general public questioning my parenting skills.

So moved by his mournful gaze, neighbor Julio asks to take him out on trips into the woods to fix the aqueduct or go fishing. Julio says it´s so Walter doesn´t get lazy, but I know better, because the invites only come after Julio wonders aloud at the Ambassador´s ¨little sad face.¨

Of course, he doesn´t always look like it´s the most disappointing day of all time. He plays, scares the neighbors, and walks right by my side whether I´m going lejos arriba to clean the water tanks, or down to nearby Quebrada Juan to pasear. He´s afraid to cross the street and gets nervous in front of a lot of people, but left to run loose in the monte, he looks more at home.

I never had a puppy before, so I was unsure about what it would be like, but I´m always delighted by the ways he is like a real baby. He has sweet puppy breath and does not react well to bathtime:


In the night, sometimes he cries. I get up, give him a little cuddle, and he goes back to sleep again until the morning. When I read at night, he starts trying to climb up on me and wedge his face in the crook of my elbow or on my chest. H ewon´t settle for some affectionate patting. He wants to snuggle. In fact, while I was writing out this entry last night, he climbed into my lab and positioned himself just so:
I will have to work on phasing this out eventually because hammock snuggle hour is not as easy or enjoyable with a 50 lb hound. But right now, I am powerless to deny him. His eyes!

So life with Walter is fun. He makes every day a little more interesting. The town refers to him as my chi chi, Ngobere for child, and he is exactly like that. My own little chi chi with a body spotted like a cow, and a face marked by a persistant melancholy that he might be too young and erm, canine to really own.