It is tough to be a dog or a dog-lover in Argentina.

In Buenos Aires – its fine – sure there are strays, but they are crowded out by the number of well cared for dogs, bundled up in coats and booties, enthusiastically dragging their dogwalkers through the streets, chasing after balls and Frisbees in the dogparks. Buenos Aires has a North American approach to pet ownership (they prefer ‘European’).


(Buenos Aires dogs on their walk)

Outside of Buenos Aires, not so much. Here in Mendoza, there are a lot of strays. They join you on your walk, perfectly pacing you. Today, I was joined by a black lab mix, who was probably about a year old. Matted coat, but bright eyes, lolling tongue who followed me for ten blocks, waited with me at the lights, crossed with me, and continued with me up towards the nearby park. When they do this – they are so well behaved it is heart breaking. When you come out of stores, they'll be patiently sitting there, waiting.

I refused to make eye contact. Refused to speak to him. Absolutely ignored him. He followed me anyway.

I’m walking next to the park (between the park and a busy road), Felix at my heels, tail wagging, when suddenly there is a blast of barking. To my left, 20 feet away, a pack of approx 10 dogs erupt from the underbush, charging towards me. No rotweillers, no dobermans, no german shepherds, nothing really *big*. I think: well at least my shots are all up to date. Felix crowds my legs at the exact moment I realize they aren’t after me, they are after him.

Sure enough a terrier-cross nips him on the rump, he yelps, then he’s bitten again as they drive him out onto the street. There is this horrible moment as he bolts into the heavy two-lane traffic, and there are cars swerving, honking, and I’m absolutely sure he’s going to be hit. He’s running back and forth between cars, until he finally makes it to the other side.

The other dogs immediately disperse- mission accomplished.

I think: he was shadowing me in the hopes that I would provide him safe passage. That I would have yelled at those dogs. Or somehow protected him (instead I almost watched him get killed).

But its so hard. You can’t rescue all of the dogs, you can’t even rescue one – trying to get a dog out of these countries is harder than getting them in to Canada (I know, cause I tried to adopt one from Ecuador, and the paperwork and time involved.) You would think I was trying to export some valuable ancient artifact out of the country - how difficult they made it. They should be giving these dogs away.

Yesterday, in that same park, I had to step around a dead Doberman just lying on the sidewalk. I don’t know if it had chocked on something, or if it had a massive tumour that had finally suffocated it, but it had something the shape of a beer can lodged in its distended throat.

And then today, walking back home, there was an older german shepherd – trying to stand up. It looked like it had a stroke. Bent almost 90 degrees, half his body no longer working properly. Hit by a car? Who knows? It could barely walk.

Anyway. Sorry for the gloomy post. But its definitely one of the harder things about traveling for me. At least its not a kid, I guess.

Some dog poetry and sketch. i did this so long ago - i can't even remember who it was for. maybe it was for me!