A Breeze Causes a Stir

One dark night not long ago, we scooped a tan, medium sized dog up off the streets and made her part of our family. She arrived with an open heart and an eagerness to belong, as though she had been waiting for someone to say, All right then, come in—you’re home now. We named her Brisa, which in Spanish means Breeze.

Of course, we knew nothing of her past, so our first concern was her health. A veterinarian from our village came by and gave her a couple of injections to ease the pain in her injured foot and ankle. Soon after, we took her into the city for a full checkup, vaccinations, and to have her sterilized.

That was when we were told she had already been spayed.

This came as a surprise. We had inspected her ourselves and found no sign of it, but the veterinarian felt what seemed to be a scar—although slightly higher on her abdomen than expected. Relieved, and more than a little grateful, we took Brisa back home, believing the matter settled.

Then, about a week later, it happened.

Small drops of blood appeared on the floor in a trail. We checked both dogs for injuries—nothing. Brisa, meanwhile, was licking herself and being her usual affectionate self.

It slowly dawned on us.

Brisa was in heat.

We had no idea we weren’t just rescuing a dog, but welcoming a princess—one whose arrival would summon admirers from every corner of the neighborhood.

Our household was instantly thrown into a kind of quiet, frantic disarray. It is a good thing we don’t have wall-to-wall white carpets! Our floors are Saltillo tile, which means they can be mopped—and so they are. About thirty times a day.

There were other complications. A neighbor’s dog, Oso, lives on our property, and he became very attentive to Brisa’s new condition. So did several other dogs, who began showing up outside our fence whenever we took her out on a leash for her business. This was a new arrangement. Before, she wandered our property freely, alongside Mali—and Oso.


She has shown a little curiosity about the other dogs, though she’s gone toward the fence, as if she is wanting engagement. She is not quite ready yet. Oso tried mounting her once, and she snapped at him sharply, as if to say, "Not so fast, mister!" But we can sense what’s coming. Soon enough, she will be wanting to be, as the old song goes, “where the boys are.”

A couple of days ago, a particularly determined neighbor dog made it through the barrier, resulting in a fierce and noisy altercation with Oso. I feared the worst for the other dog—and dreaded having to explain it to the vecinos. To separate them, I had to employ the large wooden staff I now carry. And this—all before Brisa has even reached the most intense stage of her cycle.

Apparently, the whole affair lasts about three weeks.
Ughhh.

Still, every time I look at her—tail wagging, eyes bright, heart wide open—my own heart responds in kind. Like her tail, it starts thumping all on its own. We remind ourselves that all things pass, even the messy and inconvenient ones, and that soon enough we’ll find a good clinic and get this little chapter of chaos resolved.

In the meantime, we mop, we watch, and we laugh when we can. Brisa, blissfully unaware of the trouble she has stirred up, simply continues being Brisa—sweet, loving, and very much at home.

Quinceañera for Frida

 

Last weekend, my wife Amy and I had the honor of attending a quinceañera for Frida, the daughter and granddaughter of our friends and close neighbors here in San Pedro Ixtlahuaca. We were thrilled to be invited as the event photographers, capturing beautiful moments of this special day.

A quinceañera is a traditional Latin American celebration marking a girl's 15th birthday, symbolizing her transition from childhood to womanhood. The celebration was held in a grand event hall, in an adjacent municipality on the outskirts of Oaxaca. Upon arrival, we were touched to find that our friends had reserved a table of honor for us, seating us alongside them. This gesture made us feel incredibly welcome and deeply appreciated. 

The evening was a vibrant tapestry of music, dance, oratory, and heartfelt tributes to Frida. From the lively tunes played by the band to the choreographed dances by Frida and her court, every moment was filled with joy and celebration. One of the highlights was the "calenda," a traditional parade that entered the hall and added a unique and festive touch to the evening.

Especially, the dancing of Frida and her entourage of young friends was very touching. Such respect and camaraderie, gave a touching poignancy to the evening.  

As the night progressed,  we ate our fill and our hearts were brimming with the warmth and friendship of the community. We felt a profound sense of belonging, embraced by the kindness and generosity of our friends and neighbors. It was a night we will cherish forever, a testament to the strong bonds we’ve formed in our beloved village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca.

Congratulations to Frida on her marvelous quinceañera . . . and to her wonderful family. 

Echoing Within

The sensory experiences of the Pacific Ocean have come with me 3000 miles (4800 km) from Puerto Lopez, Ecuador to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Though I live in a mountain city far from the sea, I can hear and feel the ocean echoing within. On the coast, the sights and sounds were just outside my door. It was hot, so barely anything buffered my skin from the outside influences. I frequently jumped into the surging waves. Eight days of beach life passed in steady cadence with surging waves pounding upon the shore.

Pacific Coast, Ecuador.

The six weeks in Mexico and Ecuador were all I could have hoped for. Yesterday, at my gallery a woman asked if I had been afraid in Mexico. "No," I replied, "I was afraid before I left!" I was told it would be dangerous, that violence was rampant. The warnings caused apprehension that sought to take hold and create an insurmountable barrier.

Cobbled street, San Miguel De Allende, Mexico

After arriving in Guanajuato City, Mexico, my fears were quickly dispelled. The alarming reports were slanted and not conveying everything true. Yes, I was a "Norte Americano" and a gringo who did not speak Spanish. Yet, I felt accepted and even honored. I made paintings and did street photography, took Spanish lessons and respected the different culture. I wandered about for many hours, walking great distances.

All the while I was in Mexico and Ecuador, so many things could have been bad but were not. The worst experience I had was my own fault.

There is much talk these days of building walls between peoples of neighboring countries. It may be a short term solution, but as the world advances to maturity, the walls will come down and bridges will be built instead.