It's been a while since I wrote about Boquete's many dogs. There are perros municipales, the town dogs, who mosey about downtown blocking traffic and doorways from time to time. More than once I've been obliged to step over a dog or two to enter a downtown business establishment. No one seems to mind. (On our first trip to Boquete way back when, we observed a dog inside a downtown grocery store peeing on the bottom shelf of canned goods. Although there were quite a few shoppers around, no customer expressed any surprise or outrage.) And there are the perros rurales who live further afield. Their sleeping spots of choice are the middle of the road, and only if a vehicle refuses to maneuver around them will they deign to move. By and large, they are much thinner than their town counterparts, the latter having the advantage of copping a handout from a restaurant or sympathetic tourist on occasion. The rural dogs, with few exceptions, get fed only when the family has excess food--which isn't often. The country dogs, particularly those attached to poor Panamanians or the indigenous Ngobe Bugle, are pitiful things. And there are many dogs that are simply turned out on their own. My beloved Felipe is one of those. More on him later.
Truth be told, though, there are far fewer dogs milling about than there were five years ago, and the situation improves every year due to the heroic efforts and phenomenal success of Amigos de Animales de Boquete. Headed by the very capable Ruby MacKenzie, Amigos holds a spay and neuter clinic every month, with major clinics in January and June at which up to 150 animals are sterilized and given rabies vaccinations, antibiotics, and vitamin shots. In other months, it's around 50 to 60. Over 6000 cats and dogs have been sterilized since the inception of Amigos, resulting in a conservative estimate of some 45,000 fewer animals being born in the last five years. Education efforts, too, have been successful, resulting in clinics now being packed with Panamanians whereas they originally attracted mostly gringos. No one is turned away, but those who can pay are charged only $5 for a cat, $10 for a dog. This doesn't pay for everything, of course, so there's a big annual venta de patio (garage sale) fundraiser and lots of smaller events throughout the year to raise money. Several veterinarians from the States have become actively involved, bringing in medicines and participating in the clinics without pay. Amigos also runs a pet adoption operation, advertising on their website and Internet forums when orphaned animals are available. This has been remarkably successful, and I know of only a few expats who do not have at least one locally-adopted animal. Many have more.
My friend and auction co-chair Penny Barrett has three: Rosita, a chicken-killing part bulldog who requires an invisible fence and a collar apparatus the size of an egg crate to keep her from decimating the neighborhood poultry population; Pinhead, a mixed breed who, as her name implies, is somewhat short on gray matter; and the indomitable Daisy, an aging shepard mix and one of Boquete's finest. Daisy came to belong to Penny after her original expat savior, Sheryl Johnson, had to return to the States unexpectedly for an extended period of time to aid her ailing mother. Sheryl, who lives in downtown Valle Escondido, first encountered Daisy when, each morning, she accompanied a group of Ngobe Bugle who pass through the development on the way to town. I'm not sure I have the details exactly right, but the story is that Sheryl observed each day how unkind the Indians were to Daisy, kicking and hitting her whenever she would stray from the path. One day Daisy wandered into Sheryl's yard and an Indian chased after her waving a stick and shouting. Sheryl came out to run interference, and Daisy ran to the back patio, backed into a corner and snarled at her pursuer, then ran behind Sheryl and pressed herself against her legs. Some sort of deal was struck, and Daisy remained with Sheryl and her husband, where she proved to be an exceptional dog: smart, well-mannered, and friendly to everyone. At some point in time, Daisy appointed herself the official ambassador of Boquete, serving as a guide and companion to people touring about on foot. She leaves home virtually every day, Penny says, as she did when she lived with Sheryl, and goes downtown to find someone to accompany on a walking tour. I see her everywhere, usually with tourists on a hike, leading them along and showing them the sights. One day a couple of weeks ago I spotted her up in the Jaramillo Mountains, miles from home, guiding a group of birders. And guests who rent Penny's apartment and house next door are never without her company when out and about town. She's a fixture at virtually every outdoor gathering, somehow knowing when and where such events taking place.
Several months ago Penny and I were meeting some folks for lunch at a restaurant downtown to discuss auction business. When Penny pulled up, I saw that Daisy was with her. She and Penny got out of the car, Penny came inside, and Daisy sat outside by the door, ears perked up. "I told her Sheryl was coming," Penny advised, "so she refused to be left behind." Five minutes or so later, I heard Daisy whimpering and saw her tag wagging. Several minutes later Sheryl's car pulled up, Daisy went into an ecstatic whirling motion, and she and Sheryl had quite a reunion on the sidewalk. When she finally came inside, Sheryl explained that Daisy knows the sound of her car, even though she hadn't heard it for months, and knew she was coming when she was blocks away. Just yesterday, I was driving home from a meeting in the pouring rain when I spotted Daisy heading home from town, oblivious to the weather, with a satisfied look on her face. Apparently the day was done, her ambassadorial work was over, and it was time for supper followed by Penny's warm bed.
All in all, Boquete has to be the best place in Panama to be a dog. If the word gets out, all the other dogs in Panama will be organizing and conspiring to move here.
My own former orphan Felipe, also known as Baby Boy ( to me) and Little Buddy (to Larry), is now almost fully acclimated to home and is looking better every day. I had been barely coping with his skin condition, using various medicated shampoos and food regimens, while waiting for Dr. Dan (Evers) to make an appearance in June. (He had told me earlier that Panamanian vets invariably treat skin ailments wrong, not knowing how to diagnose the various conditions.) I had done Internet research, talked with Panamanians who, Edwin advised, knew more about animals than the local vet, and just limped along. Felipe was looking pretty good when I left for the States for 10 days. When I returned, however, he had regressed considerably and looked a real mess. Larry, not knowing what all I had been doing, had been doing nothing skin-wise. Apparently, I had just been keeping things somewhat in check and, without mommy's TLC, things had gone to hell. Fortunately, Dr. Dan was here, having just participated in the June spay and neuter clinic. He and Cindy came by to accompany us to lunch; he did a quick examination and declared the principal problem to be a fungal infection, accompanied by a secondary bacterial infection no doubt brought about by scratching. There were signs of previous mange, he said, which Felipe probably had been born with. So off we went to Melos (the fertilizer, animal food, and all-around agricultural store) to buy anti-fungus medication, antibacterial medication, and anti-mange medication, to be used in succession. We just finished the fungus treatment, and he looks and feels 100% better. There's still a little redness to the skin, though, so I'll do 10 days of antibiotics. I think part of the setback was due to my leaving, as Felipe had become very attached to me. It took him a few days to readjust to my presence, but now he's all mine again and is thriving. He's made his way into bed with the two of us and the other three animals; he goes under the cover, curls into a tight little ball up against me, and is no trouble at all unless Kitty Kitty spots him, is feeling frisky, and sets upon him while he's defenseless. They're still sworn enemies in much the vein of Seinfeld and Newman.
The big news is that Felipe and I are going to dog school! It occurred to me a few days ago that just once in my life I'd like to have a well-behaved dog, one who actually obeys me more than now and then. There's a woman here I really like who has 30 years experience of working with animals, and she offers an eight-week course, one morning a week, for $60. It begins Saturday, and Felipe and I are enrolled. She, Kris Berg, came by yesterday to collect my money and cadge some plants, at which time she met the dogs. All three loved her on sight and, remarkably, listened to every word she said to them. I'm optimistic that the classes will go well because Felipe is devoted to me and tries hard to please me, though his puppy instincts take over all too often. There should be some good stories, so stay tuned.
