MY THREE DOGS

Every afternoon, she came running down the country road to greet me. Big Eyes. That's what I called the little dog. I assumed she had a Mexican name, too, but she was always Big Eyes to me.

Allow me to explain. When in La Paz, Mexico, my husband and I like to walk every day, around 4 p.m. near a beach called El Comitan. Our two dogs, Ninotchka and Chili love the walk, and so does my husband. Since I'm unable to keep pace with them, I follow them in the car, getting out sometimes to inhale the fresh sea air.

I always carry "treats" for our own two dogs - little pieces of wieners which I cut up for them.

Every day, we stop at a small grocery store which seemed to have everything, and the wieners became a daily tradition. Ninotchka runs by the car when she wants her treat, and Chili gets her treats at the end of the walk.

Ninotchka is a beautiful, sleek, border collie with the sweetest temperament you could imagine. Chili is a white poodle and a little rascal who has to be kept on a leash to prevent him from running away and getting lost. The two dogs get along well and we love them both.

One day, on our usual walk, my husband complained a dog on the road seemed to have a "mean streak" and hurt our  Ninotchka. My husband had picked up a stone. The dog seemed to recognize the gesture and slinked away.

"Next time he'll take a bite of my leg," my husband said, and decided to walk with a stick down that particular road.

But I thought of a better method. On the following day, I called to the dog. "Hey you!" I said and the dog stood still. I threw him some pieces of wieners. He ate them and his eyes asked for more. I don't know his name to this day but feeding Hey became part of our daily ritual. An older black dog joined him, and he got his share, too.

When we turned the bend, Hey at first stayed on his own territory and that's how I met Big Eyes.

We saw three little dogs yapping at every car that went by. I threw them some wiener pieces one day, and they became my new friends. The first day, they were shy and stayed at a safe distance but within a few days they started feeling safe and came close to my car.

I had a feeling they didn't belong to anyone and were just street dogs - there are many in Mexico - but then I saw they seemed to belong to some workmen who were building a long brick wall. The workmen didn't mind my feeding the dogs, and as time went by, this too, became a daily ritual. The little grocery store was doing well , and one day the owner asked my husband whether we're having a party. The store was making more money from us every day.

One of the little dogs was white, and I called him Whitey. The third little dog was more shy and reserved than Big Eyes and Whitey, so her name became Shy. Shy was more fragile and deferred to Big Eyes and Whitey.

Every day, they looked forward to my coming - their friend with the wieners - and I must admit the day came when I realized I loved them as much as they loved me.

Their joyous greeting, with Big Eyes in the lead, became the high point of my day. I couldn't wait to see them.

I tried hard to divide my treats but most of the time, Big Eyes got more of the wiener pieces. She was stronger and more agile than the other two. I developed tricks. I threw pieces to Big Eyes to divert her, and then I fed Whitey and Shy.

The three dogs also developed tricks. Shy and Whitey often went to the right side of the car, leaving Big Eyes on the left. They knew I could throw pieces out of either window. When Big Eyes caught on to this trick, she, too went to the right side of the car. Often, the three of them stood in a row looking at me with great anticipation.

It was fun, the dogs became dear to me, and all seemed well with the world. Hey took a small bite out of our gentle Ninotchka, and we stopped walking down Hey's road. Hey belongs to an American , and I know she has a good home. Big Eyes, Whitey and Shy needed me.

But, as usual, joy doesn't last forever. Not in the real world.

One day, I noticed Shy had trouble seeing his treats. I told one of the workmen, a pleasant fellow. He smiled and agreed with me. When I suggested Shy needs to see a veterinarian, he shrugged. To take Shy to a veterinarian would cost him his day's wages - and he wasn't about to part with money for just a dog. Dogs are as common as flies in Mexico, and Mexicans treat them with indifference.

I watched Shy with concern, dropping treats right in front of her but she became worse every day. After a few days, she gave up. She no longer tried to get the treats she once loved so much. She refused to eat, and I had to face the fact I would arrive one day to find Shy dead.

There was worse to come.

One day, Big Eyes, the strongest of the three, seemed indifferent to her treats, although she ate them. I told my husband, and he thought it was just a mood. But the next few days were the same. Now Shy never came out of the compound the workmen had built. Big Eyes remained indifferent to the wiener treats, and now only Whitey enjoyed them.

In the meantime, the workmen had finished the wall. They told us there was to be no building inside, and the compound was for fiestas - parties. Large steel doors were placed at the opening, and I often arrived to find my three dogs locked in. Sometimes one or two of them managed to stay outside, waiting for me, but I never saw Shy anymore.

When I did see her, she refused to eat and became weaker every day. Big Eyes was still around but I could tell she wasn't well.

Now, the feeding became a necessity. I put food into Shy's mouth and urged Big Eyes to eat. Realizing they were lucky if they got water from the workmen, I knew the three dogs depended on me for sustenance. When the dogs were locked in, my husband threw wieners over the high wall so the dogs could eat.

Yesterday Big Eyes refused to come to me. Only Whitey was there as usual. Big Eyes wasn't in the compound but chose instead to hide in the thick bushes across the road. She looked at me. I called but she disappeared.

I fed Whitey, who followed me a long way once I started the car. That was unusual for her, and I considered taking her into the car. She would be frightened, I knew. I gave her all I had and my own dogs had to do without treats this time.

Today was a sad day, without joy. When we arrived at the compound, we were late and the doors were locked. I called: "Big Eyes, Whitey, Shy!" several times. My husband and I managed to look in through a crack in the door. Shy lay near the doors, immobile. We realized Shy had died. I cried at the cruelty of it. Whitey was nuzzling her sister but couldn't wake her.

Big Eyes came from across the road but ran away when I opened the car door. I looked at her and she at me. She wouldn't come, so we left wieners beside the bushes, hoping she would eat them. I don't think Big Eyes recognizes me any more. She seems to see me but I'm a stranger to be feared now.

We threw whole wieners over the wall to Whitey and she ate as if she were ravenous. Then we continued on our walk but decided to come back later. When we did, Big Eye's wieners were gone. Since there seemed to be no other dogs nearby, we hope Big Eyes ate them. Oh, Big Eyes, the strong one! Will I see you tomorrow? I will remember forever how fierce your love of life was and the excitement with which you used to greet me. How I will miss you!

Will Whitey still be well tomorrow? If I can, I will take Whitey home because my husband and I are the only ones who care about her. I no longer care if she belongs to someone else.

Only Whitey remains, little Whitey with her habit of cocking her head to the right. Perhaps there is still time to save her precious life.

Epilogue

Today, Big Eyes was in the open compound. She refused to eat or to come to me.She was lost to me now, and I had to say good-bye from a distance. The workmen said the dogs are sick, and told us they had buried Shy. I only have photos of Shy and Big Eyes now. But the pictures I have in my heart are far more vivid than the photos.

It's too late to save Big Eyes, and I wish we had acted sooner instead of worrying about whose dogs they were.

But now Whitey has a chance at life. I asked a young workman to help my husband get Whitey into the car in case she resisted. She did not resist, and settled in with me and the ever-present wieners.

While my husband continued his walk with Chili and Ninotchka, Whitey and I chatted in the car.

"You're going to see the doctor ," I told her. "You're much too scrawny but we'll feed you all kinds of treats." Whitey licked my hand and seemed happy and content.

All of a sudden I noticed the sky had changed. It had been a dull, cloudy day but now it was ablaze with brilliant  purple colors. I stopped to photograph the beauty engulfing me, and I felt God in his heaven was smiling on Whitey and me.

When we stopped to feed Chili and Ninotchka, Whitey drank two bowls of water. She also got all the wieners she wanted.

Now little Whitey is home at last. She's making friends with our two dogs and investigating every corner of our property. On Monday, we'll take her to the veterinarian to be vaccinated and to get advice on how we should proceed.

Meanwhile, she'll have good food and her own pillow to sleep on.

Whitey is safe now, in a home where she's loved.

© Amy Thompson 2004

Note: This is a true story.