reposted from the Baja Report blog 1/12/2016
A long time ago, perhaps as much as 40,000 years, a lone grey wolf entered into the light of the fire ring of the human family. This wolf was less afraid than other members of the pack. Or perhaps it was very hungry. That first family had always been afraid of wolves. They are wild animals. But this time it was different. The human fear of the wolf and the fear that the wolf felt was a little less than before. The wolf found a scrap of food and ran from the light of the fire ring. The humans did not give chase.
The next night the grey wolf came back. Maybe it stayed a little longer, maybe it had a companion. Later somewhere in the well of time that wolf became the camp dog. Then it became camp dogs. Everything for the human family changed. A symbiotic relationship unlike any other in human experience became a part of daily life. Man began to rely on the dog for protection, comfort, warmth, companionship. The dog relied on humankind for food, protection, comfort, warmth, companionship. The human family became the parent of a former wild animal.
When we first came to Baja 25 years ago the descendants of that first dog were often the 3rd class citizens of Todos Santos and Pescadero. The local population was mostly very poor. And, as in poor third world or developing countries everywhere, the dogs had to struggle for food and care. They were on the outside looking in and often stranded in loneliness and illness.
On our first trip to Baja we were walking through a palm forest. A medium size black dog was following us. We would stop, he would stop. We looked at each other, wondering. We wondered about the dogs health, whether he was eating regularly, if he had a family.
The dog looked at us with a type of hopefulness. We could not return that gaze. We couldn’t respond at that time as we were new to the area, didn’t know what would be appropriate, didn’t have the time or circumstance to reach out.
Over the years everything has changed for the local dogs. Groups have formed to help dogs in distress. A retired women who settled here opened a refuge for dogs, providing shelter and medical care for rescued dogs, as well as adoption services. A young couple developed rescuing dogs as a way of life. Free spay and neuter clinics have been set up a few time per year to help reign in over breeding that results in an increase of at-risk dogs.
Today we see fewer dogs that are in very poor shape in the 2 towns nearby. Usually they are picked up by one of our many caring neighbors that live here and in other Gringo neighborhoods. They receive medical attention and are brought back to health in a loving environment. Often they are adopted by the rescuing families or a neighbor. They also find homes through a pipeline of dog adoptions from Baja to both the U S and Canada.
Sally and I have found and brought to health several dogs over the years. Our dog Mari is one. Nine years ago she followed us home from a beach walk. Apparently abandoned and very thin but not ill she became ours in 1 day. Two of our rescues were so ill they did not survive but spent their last days in comfort and in companionship with other dogs and people at the refuge. The others we have adopted out. These are dogs that have always given more than they get.
Rescuing a Baja dog is a type of alchemy. The alchemists of history attempted to change lead to gold. The process was both a physical process and a ritual of personal change. When a rescued dog experiences healing in the company of humans the rescue families go through that same experience. We hope the dog gets better, that it is allowed to reenter the fire ring of the human family and become the dog it was meant to be. As this happens we become the people that we are meant to be. We become the healers that are healed by the dogs of love.
Off the coast of Southern Baja, about 50 miles north of Cabo San Lucas, the Espiritu de Jesus fished the waters of the Pacific for shrimp. By day she moored out to sea about 1 mile, straight out from the little town of Pescadero. By night her crew ran Espiritu de Jesus up and down the coast several miles, dropping the big shrimp trawls into the sea to catch their livelihood. She usually worked and moored near the shrimp boat La Rana (The Frog) named for its green paint. La Rana was owned and operated by Capitan Gonzales, a man of many years fishing.