“Tell me again,” said Teddy. The wool blanket was scrunched up around him, all snug on the bed with a new toy, a ball, a bone under one paw, and a ready made big sister watching him. He looked up at me with those dark brown eyes, almost black, his little snout just as dark in contrast to his golden fur. Yes, a little golden retriever mix by the look of him, two or three months old perhaps. Who knew?

“It’s my origin story,” he told Billie and wagged.

I leaned back against the pillow, touching both him and Billie who listened too. She liked these stories, had heard them before at a ripe old age of three and a half. She had her own, from Colorado, Spring 2020, dropped off with her puppy siblings at a rescue in the snow covered mountains. I played with one of her soft ears, floppy like a hound’s. I found it funny that she looked like a Baja dog, the black body and brown eyebrows so prevalent here and Teddy, the one born here looks like such a gringo dog, a Coloradan.

“One day,” I began, “only a few days ago I suppose, Uncle Héctor and Aunty Pam were at the local trash dump, feeding the numerous strays living on scraps. It was another winter’s day, warm and stinky with rotting roosters after a local cockfight competition. They walked around, Héctor and Pam, checking on the dogs when they saw three little pups on top of a pile of dead roosters and fish!”

“YUK!” said Billie, the spoilt northerner, and she wriggled further into her own blanket on the bed.

“Yes, Pam said it was horrible seeing them there, covered in dead blood and feathers, and they had to do something. So they picked you up, Teddy, you and your siblings.”

Teddy held his toy under a paw. “Were you there? Did you see me too?”

I shook my head, “No, but I’m glad they did.”

“Me too.” Both dogs echoed.

I looked around our little casita, the colorful walls, paintings from friends, dog beds on the floor, and dogs next to me, the heater blasting out, and the windows that looked upon banana trees, lemons, limes, oranges and mangos with mountains in the distance. Lovely. “Your aunty Pam told me all about it though. She found you.” I tapped him on his nose. Billie pushed against me and I stroked her throat as she loves.

“Tell me more!” said Teddy, loving the attention.

“You stank!”

“I did not!”

Billie wagged her tail when I said, “I think you did, Little One. You were sleeping on dead chickens!”

“Ick,” said Billie but wagged as if it wasn’t really. She liked eating dead things too. As long as I didn’t see her that is.

“I know, nasty eh?” I picked up my mug of tea and sipped. “Pam and Héctor brought you back to his place, the rescue, and she gave the three of you puppies a bath. You remember his place? With all..”

“–the other dogs!”

“Old dogs, young dogs, big dogs–”

“–and little dogs!” We all chimed in together. Tails wagged. Tea was spilled.

“The End,” said Teddy and Billie.

“No it’s not. It’s just the beginning.”

Wag wag. Wag wag.

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