Each winter break at the Uruguayan American School extended from early December through to February 4th. This was summer in the Southern Cone and January was similar to August back in Amelia Island, Florida. Families would book holiday houses up the coast at Punta del Este, Periopolas, and Rocha. For me, it meant a long visit with my son, Chris, wife, Katya and my two granddaughters, Gabriella and Alexandra in Spain. Granada lies just below the Sierra Nevada mountains, the tallest in Spain, and it very cold despite strong sunny days. The visit was full of long walks through the Federico Garcia Lorca Parque and cooking hearty soups at home. It was idyllic.
I usually headed back to Montevideo in mid January to get a head start on the new term and to enjoy a bit of summer on the Rambla, a smooth boardwalk which runs miles along the beach in Montevideo. Although I have never been much for gardening, I had found a gardener my first Spring in Montevideo. I spotted Lucero walking down my street in Carrasco; he was pulling a push lawn mower behind him. Grizzled and frail he was able to understand my meagre Spanish and agreed to come once a week to help with my small garden. The half acre that surrounded my cottage was bordered by a sturdy wrought iron fence. There were some scraggly shrubs, a huge gardenia tree and a small flag stone patio just outside the front door.. The lawn was really just thick green weeds sprinkled with some grass. Unlike some South American countries, Uruguay has a strong economy and the currency is linked with the US dollar. In fact, one can use the dollar rather than the peso in any shop or restaurant. I soon learned that Uruguay was expensive! More expensive than the United States! Fortunately, my rustic cottage was part of my contract with the school and I learned to manage my money frugally. The one real bargain, I found, was the nursery! With Lucero's guidance I bought pallets of flowers, several rose bushes, two large terracotta pots, bags of soil and plant food. There was a sunny bricked in bed wrapping around a bay window; that made a perfect spot for rosemary which became almost a hedge as it thrived and provided fragrant herb for cooking. The terracotta pots with rose bushes bordered the patio and I purchased a second hand round glass table and matching wrought iron chairs for outdoor dining. It was at that table where Lucero and I would share wine and a strange broken conversation in Spanish after he had finished trimming and tending the garden. There were surprises, too. One scraggly bush turned out to be pomegranate; I discovered this one morning as I left the cottage and noticed a large fruit hanging from the fragile branch of the bush! This seemed incredibly auspicious! When the gardenia tree bloomed, it happened all at once! The heady fragrance filled the garden and most of my immediate neighborhood!
But the biggest surprise in my garden came when I had returned from Spain and found Goyo. I chose the name, which meant gallant and brave, because this emaciated dog had somehow squeezed through the wrought iron railings and found refuge in the garden. He was very shy, afraid and was lame. I wondered if he had been hit by a car, as his back left hip seemed broken. I went to the Tiende Ingles grocery in my neighborhood and bought supplies: food, a chew toy, leash and collar.
A few blocks away, down the main shopping street of Carrasco, was a veterinarian office. Dr. Arturo agreed to come and look at the dog, since Goyo would not let me approach him to put on a collar or leash. Arturo road up in his small van which had a portable Xray machine. Somehow he gained Goyo's confidence and was able to lure him to the van to be treated. Fortunately, Goyo did not need surgery for his injured hip, but just rest, food and attention. Arturo seemed to think Goyo had been one of those feral dogs that the Romani keep and are often seen following the horse drawn wagons that go from tip to tip collecting any useable trash that had been discarded. Indeed, now that I knew what to look for, I did see a number of dogs with the same markings and size as Goyo trotting behind the wagons.
Goyo had been starving; I could count his ribs and Arturo recommended some special food and supplements to help the dog heal and become strong. Arturo also noted that Goyo was infested with fleas and gave me a special dog shampoo. I wondered how I would ever be allowed to bathe the frightened dog! The next day Goyo allowed me close enough to put on his collar with a leash attached to it. I tied him close to the faucet at the back door, gave him the circle of rawhide to hold in his mouth and he allowed me to hose him and shampoo him. Most dogs do "zoomies" after a bath, but Goyo just seemed more exhausted and lay down on a towel, allowing me to gently pat him dry. He would bare his teeth and growl if I came near his injury, so I led him to the front patio and put down a cushion for him to lie in the sun.
Soon we had bonded and Goyo was eating well and surveying the garden more actively. Finally he was able to go on a proper walk and, although still skittish and weak, he began to sniff trees and show more interest in the world. The sound of cars along the Rambla sent him into a panic, so we stayed more in the residential area of my block. Now it was time for me to go back to school. I took a bus on my corner which stopped about a quarter of a mile from school and I would walk the rest of the way. I wondered how Goyo would fare without me there. Waiting at the bus stop I saw him put his head through the bars of the gate and look at me. I hoped he wouldn't try to squeeze through and leave the safety of the garden. He had gained enough weight that I doubted he could still make it through!
I mentioned my new pet to colleagues who were intrigued and a little afraid that I had taken in a feral dog. But I was pleased with my progress with Goyo and relieved when I got off the bus that afternoon and Goyo was looking out the bars just as I had left him! That called for a treat and a walk to the main street. Outside the bank were a few boys whose parents manned the parking spaces. The parking didn't really need manning, but the Romani used this enterprise to earn a bit of money in tips. The boys were fascinated with Goyo and he allowed them to fawn over him and pet him. They even offered to buy him from me! But Goyo was not for sale! I had become very attached to him and enjoyed his company and growing devotion. Each afternoon we would take our walk and the boys would come running to greet us.
In addition to teaching literature and philosophy at the school, I was the College Counselor and had to travel to college fairs and conferences to gather information to share with students and parents considering options for higher education. I had been offered the opportunity to travel to Washington, DC to take part in a college counselor workshop sponsored by the State Department. I would be gone for three weeks. This event had been on the calendar for a while and I had already begun to worry about leaving Goyo. I knew he was ready to leave the confines of my small garden where he was alone each day while I was at school. I made some signs with his photograph and a plea in his "voice" for a new home. I wasn't sure how he would be with small children, since he was not really socialized, so Goyo was hoping to be adopted by a family without children. Soon the local minister whose daughters attended out school, offered a solution. He had an Australian friend who had just purchased a sheep farm inland and was looking for some dogs to come to the farm. We made a date for the farmer to visit Goyo at my cottage and he was amazed to see what a good dog Goyo had become. He claimed Goyo looked just like an Australian sheep station dog and wanted to adopt him right then! I knew it was a good solution and that Goyo would thrive with this man who loved animals and with all the space of a farm, so I brought out Goyo's leash, bowl, food and blanket. Goyo was able to jump up into the back of the SUV and looked back at me briefly as he set off on his new adventure. I stood there waving with tears rolling down my cheeks. I had really become attached to my surprise companion. Some weeks later the minister told me Goyo was doing well. The farmer had adopted a number of puppies and Goyo was the alpha of the pack.
When I returned from the workshop in Washington DC, I was working in the garden beside Lucero when he pointed toward our patio. There, stretched out in the sun, preening himself, was a large grey cat with white feet. I named him Socrates for his serious expression and his white socks! He came and went and I had a feeling he made the rounds each day in the neighborhood for a handout!
コメント