Going to the ...

What with all the dogs? Everywhere I turn now I find people we've known for years, who like us have lived perfectly happy lives, at least each according to his or her ability, without the need for a canine. Now it seems like everyone I talk to has gotten a dog. I don't think it's just because I am suddenly more aware of dogs in this world—I am but that's not the reason. The empirical evidence is just all over the place:

My longest, best friend from high school tells me one day on the phone that he and his wife have gotten a dog. This was shortly after we'd gotten Maya and he and I hadn't talked in probably a year so it couldn't have been cross-pollination of thought. A coworker also got a dog about six months before we did, though I can't claim lack of knowledge on that one, nor can I say his actions didn't help push me toward accepting one.

Meche's uncle's dog, Chicucha, an unshaved schnauzer, in Cuzco, Peru.

Now, here in Peru, I'm finding many of our old friends are going to the dogs as well. Our friends Cesar and Aglae informed us they have a schnauzer, as does Meche's uncle with whom we stayed in Cuzco. The two dogs have very different temperaments, though, and her uncle had one previously.



Then on Sunday we go to a cookout at her cousin's house in the campo south of Lima and he picks us up with his son and their six-month-old schnauzer-terrier mix, or at least that's my guess as to what it is. Meche's cousin calls it an ex-schnauzer.

An ex-shnauzer named Chaska

Then at the barbecue—called a parrillada here—some other old friends show up with their dog, a mixed breed of I don't know what called Sour. I learned that day that Sour was their second dog and that their first dog, a lab-boxer mix, was stolen. The stolen dog's name had been Pisco, a grappa-like spirit distilled from grapes and used in the national cocktail, the Pisco Sour. Thus the name of the dog that followed the dog Pisco.

Sour, a spirited dog named for a spirit.

I have made a feeble attempt to captures some images of dogs in Peru, particularly in Cuzco, while on this trip. My underlying agenda—spurious as it is—was to find traces of Irish red and white setters in Cuzco and confirm my brother-in-law's belief that Maya is the spitting image of his former dog Stroll I. I didn't find anything much like Maya there but did find a few white dogs with patches.

Most of this effort consisted only of lifting my camera in passing as we went about visiting friends and family. Even then, I missed a great shot of a dog jumping into the fountain in the main plaza of Cuzco for a bath because my camera was uselessly stashed inside my knapsack. We did carry out one dog-specific mission this trip, though, and that was to visit Stroll II, my brother-in-laws second Stroll, which bears no resemblance to Maya.

Stoll II, guardian of his domain.

He had to be left behind when my in-laws and their two boys moved to the States. It broke their hearts, especially my youngest nephew who pleaded for years for his father to go to Peru and bring Stroll II back. For a lot of reasons that wouldn't have been feasible, one big one being Stroll II was used to wandering openly around his neighborhood.
Also, he was adopted by the new owners of the house and later by neighbors across the courtyard, where he now resides. He's a big, brave dog who became the de facto guardian of the little complex of houses and survived poisoning—the vet clipped the ends of Stroll's ears so he would bleed out and get rid of the poison—and not long ago survived testicular cancer. Although I don't recall having met Stroll II before, the girls had and, believe it or not, he appeared to remember them, at least according to the neighbor who says unknown visitors don't usually get such a friendly reception.

Then there's Rose, an English woman who has lived in Peru for 25 or 30 years and has been a staunch defender of animal rights, particularly in working to improve treatment of dogs and cats. She works with a group called Vida Digna, a Peruvian animal welfare association. She spends a good amount of time rescuing injured, abused or neglected dogs, especially ones hit by cars, and has about 20 dogs under her care boarded with various friends and sympathizers around Lima. Below is a link to a touching story she wrote about a handicapped boy with a big heart for our best friend. Note the color of the dog in the pictures; not exactly an Irish setter red but ...

http://www.care2.com/causes/deaf-boy-in-shanty-town-rescues-burned-homeless-dog.html

Let sleeping dogs lie.

Here are some more photos of Peruvian dogs, mostly from Cuzco, though, the last patriotic pooch was wandering around the center of Lima with his owner on the country's Independence Day. He's actually a working dog, because we saw him a couple of days later in a similar part of downtown in different attire, something akin to traditional Peruvian campesino, including a chullo, the well-known Andean woolen hat with a pointed tassel and ear flaps. His owner dresses the dog up in these costumes and then waits around for tourists to notice and take pictures. He collects tips for the favor of posing his canine friend, who doesn't seem to mind the work.

A Peruvian hairless pup

A Peruvian hairless dog in national colors in Cuzco plaza.