A Good Thing

When we moved here to this rented house in Boquete, Panama, I was advised that two or three of the orphan dogs would come around looking for chow. They did. I got them first class dog chow (it may not be first class but seems to fill their tummies just fine). My favorite I named Sabachka, Russian for Puppy Dog. Beautiful medium black smooth coat with narrow face and perky ears. Been adopted and abandoned twice, I’m told. The nice neighbors down the meadow (and I) feed her. Bochke always wags a greeting and licks me on the nose. Too independent for a waif.

We had Charlie. Too energetic for a waif. I named her after Charles Darwin, birthday celebration last year, because she’s the absolute epitome of survival of the fittest. Jumped up in the air when I came out with the dog food, barked at any other dogs eating, trying to get into their bowl. Flirted with my Nikki (he’s spayed Border Collie/Newfoundland) and finally gave him such a hard love bite I had to have a local vet clean up the site and prescribe antibiotics. Half grown shepherd with a folded over, almost up ear from a neighboring Finca. Who knows what became of her.

She disappeared. Nikki moped around for a month. Wouldn’t sleep in the house. Just lay on the veranda looking and waiting for his love. Finally he comes back in the house after dark. But still when you look out the window, he is lying with his nose supported on the bottom rung of the metal railing, looking out over his domain. He’s not a waif, just a good guy with a broken heart.

Tonight it poured so hard the satellite TV gave up. On the back porch, a soaked little waif had crawled through the bars. One of our orphans who’s not; he lives down by our neighbor’s house. He’s a little light brown dog with a turned up pugish nose, pretty curved tail. I originally named him Little Miss Muffet until one day he rolled over for the world to correct his gender! I still call him Muffy. Sweet, affectionate, puts his paws on my leg and gazes up with those little dog love eyes. I dried him on a large towel, provided some chow, assured Nikki I still loved him! I’ll put Muffy out when the rain stops, but he will always be a waif. My first real waif.

There’s always a first one!

Elizabeth Gerhardt