El Perrito de Chichicastenango

We return to Guatemala City Dec 31st, New Year’s Eve day. While still at the airport we book our flights home for the end of the week and get the voucher for Chichi. Aeromexico is happy to have the puppy and she is small enough to go under the seat. They sell that space to you and your pet for $300. We get a flight to Vancouver, without a US stop, by going through Mexico City, where dog rules are much laxer.

New Year’s Eve is a junk-food-fueled raving party in our room at the San Carlos. The beer are so big we only manage to share one and the lights are out by 10 PM. Chichi is still at the clinic and they are closed Jan 1st so we have a free day.

We wander deserted streets, snap photos of a couple of urban landmarks we’d not seen on our first go round here. Have dinner at The Market, a trendy restaurant in the International Hotel.

The next morning we collect Chichi from the vet clinic. All is in order for her exportation and importation. We have our flights and her voucher from Aeromexico. The Canadian government only seems to care about the rabies vaccine and we have that.  We are as ready to go as we can be and cannot imagine any problems arising, but we know that is naive. Lots can still go wrong. But, we marvel at how far we’ve come. Her story still dumbfounds us.

She came into our lives in the most unusual way, at the end of the day, in a bustling market, in a Guatemalan mountain town. Had she not scampered over my feet I might not have noticed her. It was raining, the streets were wet and muddy and I was in a hurry to get back to our room at the Mayan Inn. Craig had gone back into the maze of stalls at the market in search of a blanket he’d spied earlier.

A wee butterscotch coloured puppy is frantically dashing about; she almost gets hit by a pushcart. Then a truck’s tires. Without thinking I reach down and scoop her up. She’s skinny and weak, wet and shivering.

Unable to find someone in the market willing to take her, I return to the hotel and ask about an animal rescue centre. I should have known, given the number of street dogs, that no such place exists. And rather than take her to the cemetery, where I’m told there were people who look after dogs, I take her to our room.

Craig returns with his blanket purchase to find us sitting in an armchair, the puppy’s nose snuggled into my elbow. By now she has relaxed, is not longer trembling, and seems content to sleep in my arms. And by now the implications of my impulse to pick her up are dawning on me. What on earth do we do with her now?

We make the mistake of naming her: el perrito de Chichicastenango, Chichi. And it is pretty clear that Craig has already claimed her as ours. I’m still hoping to find a shelter that will take her and eventually find a family to adopt her.

In the meantime, she has to eat so back to the market in search of dog food I go. We mix the kibble I’m able to buy with water and she eats a little. Not much. Her belly is bloated and I wonder if she has parasites. We settle her to sleep in the bathtub as we don’t want her underfoot on the floor; she’s so little I’m afraid one of us will step on her.

The next morning she eats a bit more, but, again, not much. I tuck her into my shoulder bag and we head out in search of supplies: a collar, a leash, water & food bowls, and a chew toy. I have added a few choice words to my Spanish vocabulary; huerfono means orphan and gusanos are worms. We luck onto a small animal supply store where the clerk sells us a pill for worms. She gives us a second pill to be given in two weeks time and says it’s a “regalo por el perrito”, a gift for the puppy.

Back at the room we struggle to get the pill down her throat and end up crushing it and mixing it with some yoghurt. She gobbles it up. An hour later, when she vomits violently, we worry that the pill may not have had time to work. It looks like she’s been eating spaghetti until I take a closer look and see that her vomit is full of dead worms. EEEWWWW!!! For the next few hours she is very uncomfortable, passing foul smelling gas and whimpering. She has a couple of poos that are also full of worms. Hooray! The pill works. She starts eating like she’s starving, which, I guess, she is.

Next up is a flea bath in the bathroom sink. Craig & I have already been bitten and when I hold her I can feel them moving around my neck. She hates the bath but we manage to kill most of the fleas.  A second bath the next day does the trick, she is flea and parasite free and seems healthy. When it’s time to move on to the next stop on our itinerary we take her with us, in my shoulder bag. We sneak her into hotels & taxis, onto buses. We feed and play with her and clean up after her and it all works remarkably well.

But we have a problem looming. We have only two days in Guatemala City before our flight to Cancun, in Mexico. We cannot take her with us. We know we have to find somewhere to board her. On our way to one vet clinic we’ve located on-line, we find ourselves stopped in the street, right in front of another vet clinic. Not the one we are looking for, but I check it out anyway. And am immediately reassured by the 40 something female veterinarian who says yes, they can board her over Christmas, and they can vaccinate her and do the paperwork needed to export her from Guatemala. No problema, we’re told.

We go to Playa del Carmen and have a wonderful ten days of sun and rest and relaxation. Much needed!

And now we are back in Guatemala City, all set to start the long trek home. We have all of our documents, including the very important rabies vaccine certificate. We get out of the airport and onto our flight with no difficulty. She sleeps in her carrier, under the seat in front of me, for the 3 hr and then 5 hr flights. Mexico City transit is time-consuming but we have 3 hrs before our flight to Vancouver. In Vancouver we are seen by an evening shift customs employee who only looks at the rabies vaccine certificate. Doesn’t inspect the dog or any other documents. Not exactly what we were expecting, but we gladly let ourselves be waved through quickly.

Poof, she is in Canada with us, in a rental car, heading to Vernon the next morning.

Prior to Chichi coming into our lives, we’d committed to two cats who needed to be rehomed by a Penticton woman. We arrange to meet her in Peachland. The cats are huge, resembling baby bobcats more than 9 month old kittens; the car is stuffed with the five of us, plus bags, plus cat paraphernalia.

A small stone has dented our windshield; Craig wants to fix it before we return the car. An internet search shows no repair places open in Kelowna on a Saturday afternoon. However, a mobile windshield repair man is set up in the parking lot of a shopping mall and we see it as we drive by. Too good to be true?! More good luck? Sure enough he says he can fix our little ding.

By the time we drop the rental car at the airport and pick up our car it is late in the afternoon. We’ve been travelling for two days and are tired. Home is still a half hour drive away and once there It takes forever to settle all the animals and bring all the bags in.

But suddenly we are home, sitting in the living room, with Chichi, Charlie & Archie. They all go well with the house decor; I take lots of photos. It doesn’t take long for everyone to find their space and their rhythm, and soon it seems we’ve been a family of five for ever.

We are all rescues of sorts. And you never know when you might need rescuing. Just look at the three mascotas, pets, we’ve recently acquired. I wonder what they have rescued us from, besides the obvious, enough sleep.

Craig starts his retirement with just what he’d wanted: two cats and a dog. The universe worked around my objections and granted his wish. I’m still a bit in shock; my mind needs more time to catch up to the new reality. In the mean time, there’s a puppy to care for and train. The cats, of course, are easy. They figure it all out without much human intervention. Chichi, not so much. A lot of supervision and attention needed. She’s smart & strong willed, two attributes that likely helped keep her alive for the first few months of her life.

She’s come a long way from that market in Chichicastenango and her story reads like a fairy tale. With a better than happy ending. Chichi has landed in the lap of pet luxury. And why not? She’s by far the best memento we’ve brought home from a trip.