An Unexpected Friendship

Lessons learned from a friendly pup & a local family

Hola, amigos 😊

It’s already been 3 years since I started this blog. And I’ve learned so much through the process. One thing is that writing doesn’t always have to spring from inspiration. Sometimes it just means sitting down and DOING. Haha.

Our girls have been homeschooling now since we left Canada and flew to Mexico 3.5 years ago. They learn SO MUCH from nature, animals, and playing Lego on a daily basis. I don’t know if I’ve ever talked about their Lego obsession in my posts. Often they’ll build and/or play with it for 2-4 hours a day…and what they make is WAY beyond anything I ever created! I know that it might seem like they’re getting too much Lego time, but I have to remind myself that they don’t usually get any screen time. And they don’t even crave it. Why? Because they fill their days with playing outdoors, reading, learning, and creating. And so, I will gladly let them be obsessed with Lego!

Tom and I are so proud of their creativity.

I was recently introduced to “Smaug” the fire-breathing dragon created by my 9-year-old after the girls read The Hobbit, with their daddy.

His head, wings, and tail can all rotate 360*…and his mouth opens up wide when he wants to breathe out fire.

My other girls have amazing creations of their own too…like the ski village my oldest daughter recently built—complete with a restaurant, hospital, clothing store, grocery store, recycling bins, and playground—where all of the roofs flip up so you can move your people around inside the cabins. And you can put them on a sled and let them slide down the sledding hill!

As I mentioned in some posts since moving to the mountains, we’ve been feeding a few dogs that come to see us. Canela was one of those—a favourite because of her sweet, friendly spirit. She would often jump up on our picnic table during meals in hopes of getting our food!

Canela was the first dog to come to us at the cabin last August. And by October her belly was bulging with puppies—we missed the boat on getting her fixed in time—OOPS!

And so, we’d been feeding her whenever she’d come to us, since we knew she had little ones to feed…and she’d come here completely famished!

One morning in early February, I set out on my little 3-km morning run, down the coffee farm trail to the river. When I got to the trailhead, I found sweet Canela lying there with a bloody, foul-smelling rag around her neck. She’d obviously been attacked in the last few days, and had an open wound on her neck.

Even though she was visibly weak, she rolled onto her back, excited for me to scratch her tummy. After talking to her and fuzzing her for a minute, I told her to stay put. After my run, Tom carried her back to our cabin where I cleaned her wound with salt water and put antibiotic cream on it. I tied a make-shift scarf (I cut from a towel) around her neck to cover it. Then, she spent the day sleeping and eating, but hardly moved—not at all like our energetic Canela!

I gave her antibiotics mixed into some chicken wet food mush in the morning and again in the evening—which she loved—and was planning to keep her inside for a few more days to care for her. But then we let her out to pee before calling it a night, and sadly she ran away.

Because I’d seen her down by el rio on my runs, I was pretty sure she lived with the family down there. So I went to the rustic tin house the next day, and a friendly man in his fifties (we’ll call Roberto) greeted me, along with his 15-year-old daughter, and they introduced me to the 3 lively puppies, but Canela wasn’t there. He told me that they had called her “Canela” (cinnamon) too. I explained she’d need antibiotics to prevent infection, so I gave them enough capsules for 8 days. But the wet food I’d brought to mix them in would quickly go bad considering they had no fridge. So I gave it to the energetic pups whose ribs were jutting out from lack of food, and they gobbled it up as if they hadn’t eaten in days!

I asked about the 2 older males and he said they’re also Canela’s from previous litters. There were animals everywhere—5 dogs, 2 cats, and several chickens running around, as large billows of smoke came from a dark room I assumed was the kitchen.

The next day (February 6) I decided to bring the hungry pups some dry food, and when I arrived, the man’s son, Roberto Jr, 33, was there with his sister who is 30. She was washing dishes in a small basin of water. Colourful clothes hung on lines, drying outside the little tin home. This time Canela was there, lying on an old towel on the dirt floor, near the smoky fire. She was too weak to get up. But she perked up when she saw I’d brought food, and ate it ravenously.

I told them she’d need those antibiotics in the morning and evening for at least a week. Roberto Jr. said his younger sister had put the meds in safe keeping somewhere yesterday, and he looked, but couldn’t find them. He said she would return from school and give them in a couple hours.

I left them, feeling hopeful.

“Canela is strong and has so much life left in her,” I thought.

Fast forward 8 days…

I wanted to check in on Canela after Tom’s sister left, so I brought my youngest daughter with me—she loves nature—and I was reminded to pause and enjoy the little things…

We walked the 20 minutes down the steep trail to “el rio”—which is just a stream, especially in dry season—crossed over on steady, smooth rocks, and then walked the short trail up to the humble home.

“¡Hola! ¡Buenos días!” I called.

“¡Hola, pase adalante!” (come on in!) a man greeted us.

We walked the few steps down and Roberto Jr. was there, and seemed glad to see us. We greeted each other.

“¿Como está Canela?” I asked.

“Ella se murió hace dos días,” was his answer.

Oh no!! No!!! Canela died?! And just 2 days ago…??

I almost cried.

“Oh no! ¡Que triste!” (how sad) I replied.

He nodded.

Now what? I wondered. But the pups had already smelled the dry food I was carrying, and were eager to get some in their hungry little tummies.

As we talked, I could tell Roberto was sad, but he was also a bit relieved. He said that having Canela’s puppies to look after is demasiado (too much) for them right now. He said in some ways, even though she was such a sweet, friendly dog, it is a bit of a blessing to not have to feed her anymore. I could empathize, given the humble surroundings, and all the animals running around, struggling to get at the kibbles before they disappeared.

His dad returned from gathering sticks for the fire as we were talking, and I greeted him. Here is a man with 5 children, some adults, some teens. He works 4 night shifts a week as a guard at our neighbouring community, but I’m sure he doesn’t make much. He always has a smile and was so grateful for the puppy food I’d brought. We chatted awhile about the pups, and what we could do to help them.

When I got back home, I posted an ad for the pups on the Facebook Expats in El Salvador page. I got several responses, mostly people who would totally take a puppy—if ONLY they could—and a few offering to help me buy food to bring them.

I’d told the family we can bring them dry food every week on Friday or Saturday. And that way they can feed the pups more each day. They seem so hungry every time we come by. The family also seems eager to have the puppies fixed as soon as they’re old enough (2 of the 3 pups are girls). They’re so sweet—those cute little pups—especially the friendliest one who looks the most like her mamma, Canela.

I feel like I’ve learned a LOT from my few short visits to the little tin house with all the animals:

• People in El Salvador live so simply (often without electricity) yet always seem to have a SMILE and a kind word to offer, even to strangers.

• I realized why the house seems so dark: it doesn’t have many windows—probably to keep the sideways rain out during rainy season!

• When I asked for his number, the young man (33 years old) said he doesn’t have a cell phone—but he’s working in a nearby town as a carpenter and helping support his family (parents and siblings).

• JOY can be found in such simple things—like bringing people dog food and a few cookies and chatting with them, even in broken Spanish.

• Most Salvadorans place high value on animals, and want to care for them, often by sacrificing the little they have for them.

• We can teach our kids compassion by befriending people and helping them or just by spending time with them.

• Whatever you have, you can be a blessing to someone, even if all you have is a caring touch or some kind words like “¡Dios te bendiga!” (God bless you!) which they said to me when I was leaving.

I’m grateful that we got to know this beautiful local family because of a sweet little dog who we (and they) called Canela.

Rest in His peace, our sweet girl! 💗💗💗

Thanks for reading, friends!

¡Gracias por leer, amigos!

Nos vemos pronto 😍

See you next time!