So, ok— this morning it was a puppy.

I went outside to feed Mrs. Moustache and a stray puppy was sitting on the step by the front door almost like someone had told it to go to our house and stay by the front door and wait for La Duena de la Casa to come out. She was a very dirty little white dog, and looked like a leggy cross between a Scottie and a Miniature Schnauzer. There was a broken bit of filthy white yarn about 6 inches long dangling from her neck, a sort of a collar and leash in one that she had apparently chewed through. I tried to ignore her while I wondered what guard had let her into the yard and shut the gate behind her. Esperando and I both agreed later that she looked too big to get through the gate by herself. I went over to feed Moustache and the puppy politely sat and waited on the step in the same spot, as though it wasn’t polite to introduce herself first.

I went into the house and told Esperando that we had a puppy in our front yard, and then went back out with some food and water for it. She was still rooted to the same spot. Although she looked a little skinny, she had a very sweet personality and once I fed her, she acted like she had never met anyone as nice as me before. She writhed and wiggled all over. Esperando came and looked at her and said, “what a mess—you can’t keep it.” Then he went out to look and see if the guard might know about whose it was. In the process he discovered that his main all-around Lad, Francisco, who is helping with the construction of Casa Abeja, wanted the dog, sight unseen. And 10 minutes later the Favorite Maid wanted the dog for her sister. Uh-oh, a competition.

The cook and the maids whisked the puppy off to the laundry and gave her a bath. Señor Jueves who is married to Favorite Maid’s sister (who I will henceforth call Señora Jueves) just came to take the puppy back to their house. All-in-all it was a pretty painless fostering experience for me, but after all these recent puppies and kittens, I am beginning to wonder if I have animal magnetism.

Four little kittens lost their mommy and they began to cry!

Today Favorite Maid came to me and said that her cat Romina, who was spayed on Tuesday, had a marble size lump below her incision. From what I thought she described, it didn’t sound too serious, but I told her I would call the vet and see what she recommended. Dr. Sellers didn’t answer her phone the first few times, so Esperando and I went off tile shopping for Casa Abeja. This took several hours of looking at and purchasing tiles. When we got back to Casa Abeja the tile guys were there and we showed them what we bought, and starting discussing layouts and getting their ideas for the kitchen and the bathroom.

Right in the middle of all this brainstorming, I heard the mewing of a tiny kitten. A lightening bolt struck, and I suddenly knew that Penelope had given birth to kittens that I had no knowledge existed until this very moment. I hear kittens, I said, racing away from the tile meeting and following the squeaky mewing. As I began to search for them, I calculated they had been abandoned for five days since last Tuesday when we took Penelope in to be put to sleep. I followed the sound of the mewing and sure enough there were four tiny white kittens in an abandoned yard, so tiny, so trembly, so covered with fleas, so hungry, and way too young to be afraid of me. Oh my, four more kittens. I wonder if this is what you feel like when you find out you’re going to have quadruplets?

I ran back into the house and grabbed the box we had brought the tile in and said to Esperando, “I just found Penelope’s four kittens.” We entered the abandoned junk-filled yard, so full of trash, and in the corner by a stash of rotting planks these poor tiny things had crept out into the open from their little den. Obviously they were starving. When they saw us they all started to mew together. Both of us gathered them up, and I took them down to the guesthouse and in a daze, poured some milk in a saucer hoping that it wasn’t too late to save them—four more kittens. Three of them seemed clueless but the fourth climbed all the way into the saucer and began to drink. The maid grabbed up one clueless kitten and with a syringe began to put milk in its mouth, and so on with the next until they were all eating voluntarily. What am I going to do with four more kittens—someday cats? This time when I called, I got a hold of Lorraine and she told me to bring them down to see her. Mike and I discussed maybe having the kittens put down, but decided to wait and see what Lorraine thought about their chances for survival.

When we got to Mulege she looked the kittens over and called one of her volunteers to come help her manage the kittens so that she could attend to Romina. It turned out the cat would need to be reopened because she had either herniated or had an abcess. When I got outside the kittens were gathered around a gruel of water and canned dog food, scarfing it down again. They had serious flea issues and were anemic from loss of blood. Lorraine agreed to keep the animals overnight since we didn’t have the time to stay as Esperando was working.

Later that afternoon Lorraine called, it seems Romina had developed a very large sterile abcess from an allergy to the suture thread, but would be fine. The kittens had all been washed, were clean and sweet and now we think all of them have been spoken for! Gosh what a hot commodity. What exciting news! Hallelujah!

Whatever floats your boat?

We knew of a guy whom I’ll call Joe because he was a lot like Joe Btfsplk from the L’il Abner cartoon strip; someone who walks around with a cloud over his head. He isn’t a bad person; he just has incredible bad luck. He and his wife started the drive down here pulling a trailer full of their household goods to come work on the Boleo mine project. They were looking forward to working on the job as well as the fishing, playing and laid back Baja lifestyle.

If you’ve ever driven down the highway in Baja you will know how dangerous it can be. The lanes are quite narrow. The roadway is set upon a berm above the surrounding terrain and the shoulders are practically non-existent—if you get a wheel off the edge its apt to be curtains. There are lots of vados (dips) and curves that block things from being visible to you at a distance. Hazards include big trucks that come barreling along sometimes gobbling up part of your lane especially on curves; very slow vehicles that pile up lines of cars behind impatient to pass; impatient drivers who pass on blind curves and drive way too fast for the road; wandering and sometimes aggressive livestock such as big mean cattle or goats and burros; and stupid gringo bicyclers with overstuffed backpacks who endanger everyone by trying to fit on a 12-inch-wide shoulder and creating a real issue when two vehicles need to pass each other. My worst fear is intercepting a lane gobbling truck coupled with a bicycler in the same breath. The road is posted with signs trying to keep drivers at the speed limit or from passing at inappropriate places. One of my favorites is ‘major tarde que nunca’ or ‘better late than never.’

In any event, Joe had an accident just south of Tijuana and his wife was seriously injured. Joe left the scene of the accident to take her to a hospital. When he came back the police were there and arrested him for leaving, even though she might have bleed to death. Joe had to abandon his vehicle and trailer on the roadside to go off with the police. He was released from jail the same day, and the cops took him back to his vehicle that was being robbed at the time by some bad men. The cops told him not to interfere or those men would beat him up.

Eventually he managed to get his car, what was left of his stuff and his recuperating wife down to Santa Rosalia. Then on a separate trip back to the U.S., Joe collected a brand new 22-foot fishing boat that he trailered down. He got her all the way to Santa Rosalia without incident, then as he was parking the boat he backed her up onto a curb he couldn’t see and damaged the rudder and the propellers. He couldn’t find anyone repair such damage properly. The boat sat unrepaired for a year. About that time the mine project was put on hold due to world economic woes, and Joe lost his job. Joe decided to call it quits with Baja and the boat, and put her up for sale. One time we drove by and saw some Mexicans checking her out. Apparently Joe was finally able to sell her. We are sure he didn’t make any money on the deal.

Now Esperando has joined in with a group of his guys in a weight loss contest. The loser has to buy a fishing trip for the rest. A couple days ago as we were driving by the ferry building, Esperando said, “Hey look—there’s Joe’s boat!” La Miramar was sitting all shiny and pretty on her trailer with a big sign advertising that the new owner would charter fishing trips. Esperando called the number and left a message and has never been contacted. Maybe that’s a bad omen. I think maybe a lot of Joe’s bad luck may have rubbed off on the boat and like a sleeping dog, we should just let it lie. What do you think?