The Puppies Post

The puppy pile outside my door.

As promised: puppies post. Let me preface this: if you don’t care about dogs, don’t bother reading this post. It is the ramblings of a dog obsessed woman. This is mainly written for my sister.

In general, Peru has a lot more dogs than the States. The main thing about the dogs, is that many of them live in the streets; which means either 1. They have no owner or 2. Their owner that leaves them outside for part/most/all of the day. This also results in the odd contradiction of people loving dogs, but also being afraid of them—because there are one or two mean dogs that roam the streets. When I was running in Callao, more than once I’ve had problems with dogs chasing me. And since coming to Huanaco, the smart thing to do sometimes is to walk around with a handful of rocks to scare away angry dogs.

Oso, King of the Hill.

From what I’ve seen, the pets here are also a little less spoiled. While there seem to be a lot of veterinary offices, I’ve never heard of someone actually taking their pet to the veterinarian. Consequently, I’ve yet to meet an animal that has been spayed or neutered.

 Another interesting thing is that people here generally don’t buy animals; animals are gifted to them. So, if someone has a dog that, like usual, isn’t fixed, that dog has a litter of puppies, generally the puppies are gifted out to their friends.

Another interesting tid bit is that the animals here don’t usually eat kibble or store bought food—they eat table scraps. Graceila’s cat, Tommy, would usually get our leftover in Callao, and the dogs in Huanaco get our table scraps as well.

Big ´ole Lucky.

The last thing before I jump into my beloved six dogs in Huanaco is names. I know that pet names in the United States are weird, but in Peru, I think they take the cake. Consuelo has two dogs named Poppy and Puppy (and with a Spanish accent, it’s impossible to tell the two names apart.) Graceila’s cat, Tommy, is about the fifth cat named Tommy the family has had. Marlene’s two dogs are named Paelo (which means ‘bald’) and Enano (which means ‘dwarf’). Naturally, she has one hairless dog and one dog that is very short.

Scottie the introvert.

Now—enough with the small talk—the Huanaco dogs. There are two kings of the hill: Oso and Lucky. Oso (which means ‘bear’ in Spanish) is who I affectionately call the Grumpy Old Man. He tends to trot around, guarding the castle and growling at the neighbor’s dogs, and occasionally calling the younger dogs of the house back into line. He’s got some type of Corgi in him, so he’s shaped like a twinkie. My favorite thing about Oso is that when you pet him, he sticks his teeth out into this glorious smile. Then there’s Lucky. Lucky is by far the biggest dog of the group and probably weighs a good 65 pounds. Lucky has a soft spot in my heart because he likes to accompany you when you leave the house and protect you from other dogs. And while I love little Oso, I feel a lot safer with big ole Lucky at my side.

Lil´ baby Hueso.

After the two top dogs, we have Scottie, who I’m guessing is about 2 or 3 years old. He’s the only dog in the group that’s timid, and in a dog-eat-dog world, that means that he gets the short end of the stick sometimes. For example, when Carolina takes out a dish of table scraps, I know Lucky and Oso always get their fair share—my guess is that Scottie, even though he’s bigger than most of the dogs, eats last. Scottie is what Katrina and I have dubbed the Introvert, because while he’s a bit of an outsider, he loves exploring and going on adventures just as much as anyone. Since I can relate to being an introvert, this makes Scottie my second favorite of the bunch.

Pom Pom the kitchen witch.

And then we have the puppies: Pom Pom, Mohada and Hueso. Pom  Pom and Mohada are pretty similar looking, and my guess is that they’re sisters that came from the same litter. They’re the only girls out of the six dogs. Pom Pom I have kindly dubbed the Kitchen Witch, because the first night we were here she bit Katrina’s ankles when she tried to walk in the kitchen. Pom Pom is also the only dog out of the six that likes to bark—but she barks enough for the six of them. Mohada is my favorite of the group because she is easily the most mischievous. She’ll eat your socks, jump on your back, pull your scarf off your neck, and when you bend over to steal your things back, she rolls on her stomach for belly rubs. She has easily stolen my heart. Finally, we have Hueso, who is the youngest of the group—and honestly, can’t be more than a month or two old. Hueso doesn’t have a ton of character yet, but right now he’s got that puppy like trait where he wants to be your shadow and follow you everywhere.

Mohada, the one that stole my heart.

And these are my six beloved puppies. While I love these dogs to death, sometimes I struggle with the cultural differences between pets in America and pets in Peru. For example, I fairly certain that at least Hueso, Oso and Lucky have fleas—and in all honesty, the others will probably have them soon if they don’t already. Unfortunately for the dogs, flea medicine is expensive here, so they won’t get any treatment. Another thing is that they’re country dogs—so they often come and go as they please. The other day Mohada went down to the river with Carolina to wash clothes, but Carolina couldn’t get Mohada to come back. Mohada was lost for more than 12 hours, but despite being just a puppy, managed to find her way home. I was sick to my stomach worrying about her and am more than thrilled to have her back.

And there you have it—the dogs of Huanaco. Of course, knowing me, I could go on and on, but I’ll leave you with this note—if I come back to the States for Christmas and I’m itching a lot, keep your distance: I’ve probably caught fleas from the dogs. I know I shouldn’t pet them since the flea problem is so bad—but I just can’t help myself.