Going to the dogs in Panama

And to think I could be buying guests drinks in the Ocean Bar, maybe even in a tux!  This is what retirement life has come to . . . me and the dogs.

After a day of gardening you have our 3 – Dalmatians Baru and Spot, quietly sleeping our Rottie Monkey – and in my lap our Indian’s mutt, Bobbie (pronounced BobEEEE) who likes hanging out with the big dogs and has adopted us, probably since we feed him, and who, since he is not allowed in the house, stands at the door and pitifully whines.

And to think we were always “cat people.”  Well, I wasn’t, but my wife was . . . When were were dating she had the most obnoxious cat named Casandra.  Every time I went to Nikki’s apartment “Cassie” would rub up against me . . . and when Nikki wasn’t looking I’d throw Cassie across the room, but she kept coming back.  Cassie that is. 

When we got married Nikki made it very clear . . . WE like cats.  So we got cats.  Each of our girls had a cat.  One was white and one was black, and the cats knew who belonged to who and always slept with the right kid each night.  Well the cats lived to be 20 and 21 years old!!!  And we lived in places where coyotes roamed at night snacking on neighborhood cats.  Long after the kids were gone we still had the cats!  Nikki used to threaten to write a book, “The Kids Are Gone and The Cats Are Dead.”  The kids never saw the humour in that . . . in fact they still don’t!

Photo is of Rebecca’s cat, Mia, at 21, just before we had to put her down.   This beautiful white cat would sleep in the ashes, and could no longer keep herself clean or stand upright.  I used to call her the “cat from hell” because she would go to nobody but Rebecca.  After Rebecca left, Mia became a really nice affectionate cat.

We came to Panama with no intention of “ever having another animal in the house.”  Then I, the “Richard” formerly known as “Dick” (that’s a long story which we won’t get into here), who had grown up learning to read with Dick and Jane (“See Dick run.  See Jane run.  See Dick run after Jane.  See Dick and Jane and Spot run.”) and always wanted a Dalmatian named “Spot” (How original!) ended up with our first Dalmation, Spot.  (“Mancha” since our dogs are bilingual even if we aren’t.)  Coming home from doggie training school (and we never learned) we fell in love with a baby Rottie for sale at the post office, so we ended up with Monkey (“Mono” in Spanish, what the family who was selling the puppies called her since she was the one in the litter who was always climbing out of the crate.)  While I was shopping for a Dalmatian a lady in Volcan had promised me a dog when her litter came through.  I thought, “Sure.  I’ll never hear from her . . . “  Well, she called and had this tiny male Dalmatian who was totally white . . . and sucker that I am . . . we got Baru. (“Baru” in Spanish, too, named for the volcano, Volcan Baru,  that looms over both Boquete and Volcan which is on the other side of the mountain.)

Actually I’m quite happy . . . most of the time . . . with my 3.5 dogs.