Sato Hill's Border Collie Missing

On the two and a half year anniversary of my husband Kirt’s death, I’ve lost my beautiful Border Collie, Dominic, Dominic Perignon. And I thought 2016 would bring healing.

I’m lonely, so I’ve writtten to single men on a friend finder line. All I can say is if I’d buried my husband, I’d be crawling in next to him before I deal with any more slicksters telling me how beautiful I am and our love is written in the stars.

Dominic got dumped at the bottom of my drive early last spring. He hid in the weeds, when I came to get him with a towel. I always wrap new babies and give them a bath welcome to Sato Hill. Black coat, flashy white paws, and perfectly folded ears; he had me before his feet hit the ground. I cooed sweetly to my heart throb; instantly he Velcro’ed himself to my leg, my scared little boy.

In the eight months Dominic lived here, puppy to young adult he matured into a crewe member, even Blondie went hunting with him. Dominic was full of himself in all of the ways young boys push and test boundaries. He thought he was the smartest in the room, which annoyed Chi-Ping, and me upon occasion.

From clingy to challenging I gave him what he needed to mature into a great dog, a companion. My darling boy, who chose to sleep outside was wanting in at night again; patience paid off.

Whoever took him, I pray they give him a good home. This hurts because I don’t believe that many dogs on this island get good homes. Tied in between house and garage is not a good life.

At least I gave Dominic eights months of a wonderful life. I enjoyed getting to know him. LOVE. 

Touching Dogs by Chi Ping

Some hands feel marvelous stroking my head and ears, sweet rapture, but I still find it difficult to trust human hands that hurt me so often. My body yearns for a gentle caress, but poking my sides is no fun for me. I gently nipped for fear of reprisal as a “bad” dog; some folks thought bitey mouth was a game I liked to play, so they’d laugh and poke like it was funny. Big whoop for them, all I wanted is for you to pet me and make me feel good.

Grabbing me around my ribs behind my front legs hurts, yet people picked me up like that all the time. They wondered why I don’t like to be picked up and run from their grasp. As mom’s friend, Marcie says, “Duh!”

Dogs have their aches and pains, just like people, even Smoki, the cat aches, poor guy has a little kitty limp. I have arthritis from being hit by a car. My hips hurt and my tail is kinked. Mom tries to help me, in spite of her making it feel better later; I can stand only so much touch before I must get away.  

Mom tries to fix me too much, I know she wants to help, but what I like the best is the twilight time when we’re in bed with her hand gently resting on my back, not doing a thing. She does, thank heaven, know how to pick me up with a hand under my front and the other supporting my rear end. I do trust her to pick me up.

It is a late fall day in Puerto Rico, the wind is roaring through the grass and it looks like rain; mom and Marcie are going to a Paso Fino Horse Show. I heard them planning on the phone, so after frantic tail wagging and big sad eyes, Blondie and I will retire to the bed for serious napping. Chi-Ping

My Life Now by Chi-Ping

Who knew island life could be so hectic? Being the neighborhood guardians, Blondie and I cruise the street and woods searching for danger. Interlopers come from all directions. Teaching Lucky and Robert Redford to protect the porch while Blondie and I defend the bed is a task for which I did not ask. As much as I do like being mom’s companion on treks to the post office or store, keeping an eye on that woman tires a pup out.

THIF, Blondie and I did not let mom out of our sights. Going to the beach on Friday is the highlight of our busy schedule. All morning mom sat in front of her computer. Smoki, the cat, is right, she spends way too much time with that thing; it’s not normal. When she finally finished, closed it and put it in the bag; hmm, that means she’s taking the computer someplace rather than back to the bedroom as usual. Oh, well, who cares; it’s TGIF.

We pant impatiently outside the door, while mom hustles around inside. Blondie’s usually steady calm is nowhere to be found. This bitch can’t sit still; now, Robert Redford and Lucky want to know what she’s so panting and slobbering about. “Grrrr, none of your business,” only stimulated the adolescent boys, who wait to see what’s going on.

Mom only takes two dogs to the beach at a time. She says, if she takes more, we won’t listen to her. Like I listen to anyone, hah, she’s not the boss of me. Perhaps, I should hang back on that until after I’m selected to go to the beach. Damn, these two pups want to go and they’re both so much bigger now, they stand over me. I’m lost in the pack. I hate packs; I’m not a wolf. I have to nip some feet to get these critters to move.

Just the other side of the door, Smoki meows to be let out. Yes, let him out, so I can come in to be with you, please! My tails wags so fast as I watch mom walk briskly into the kitchen. Let the cat out; I’ll be your only companion, Mom!

Before long mom backed the SUV on to the carport, spread a nice thick quilt across the back and left the hatchback open. Blondie and I quickly jumped in. Mom put a suitcase in the back and Smoki’s litter box on the front floorboard. Sensing one of mom’s traps, I jumped out. I know how she is; she lets me think I’m in; I’m going, then grabs me and puts me in the house before she leaves. I’m wise to her games.  

After mom loaded more things, she closed the hatchback with Blondie in the back. She called me, but I held back. I can tell by the sound of her voice if her coaxing is true or she wants to sucker me to put me in the house, so I wait to hear what she has to say, but instead she turned to Lucky and put the lead over his head. “Good boy, come on get in the car.” Oh, my word, she’s taking him with Blondie! I scrambled in on her seat and was in the back before she could lift the scared Lucky in. I’m here first, I get to go, my tail wagged with my mouth hanging wide open; I get to go!

Mom closed the door leaving Lucky to find a spot out of our way. The door opened; there she was with Robert Redford in her arms all limp and scared. He hates cars like Lucky does. Wow, we’re all going to the beach; how cool is that?

Finally mom, hopped in the driver’s seat; we’re ready to go to the beach. Smoki? Why is the cat coming with and he usually travels in his crate; where’s it? Wondering, worrying gives way to tail wagging happiness; we’re going to my favorite place, the beach, the beach!

Mom! We should have turned back there at the light!  The beach, you missed the beach; where are we going? I put my paw on the window indicating where she should go, but she kept on driving, when she turned on to the autopista/tollway I knew we were going to the shelter, Amigos de Los Animales in San Juan by the airport, by the beach.

The air conditioning cooled my ardor for the beach; soon we all napped until each toll booth where I felt required to assist Blondie in barking at the people who took mom’s money. The boys barely raised their heads. 

Barking dogs greeted us, Auntie Adri welcomed us with happy, squeaky words we love to hear and good petting. Jadie, Goodie, and Cinderella barked wildly from in the house. My friends I’m visiting my friends for the weekend; what a lucky dog I am!

My Visit to Tia/Auntie Adri by Chi-Ping

After a few days in San Juan I’m ready to just lie around, but some guys are cutting the grass. Lucky, Blondie, Robert Redford and I are doing our best to snooze, while that intense bitch, Lola trots from window to window checking; checking what, who the hell knows.

Sultry nights strolling the boardwalk, listening to the surf roar in; what could be better? Road trips to the city, a few days on the beach, in a word my kind of life, seem to be doing mom some good. On the boardwalk we stopped in the dark to look at the stars, mom cried, but not like before. Kirt, I miss you was all I heard her say.

Staying at Amigos de Los Animales can be fun, play bows and mouth duels with my best friend, Jade, who mom calls Jay- deee, good times are had by all, when Chi-Ping comes to challenge the Border Collie. This visit I got so excited about playing with Jade and Lucy I forgot about the badass beach bitches I had to walk past, well, with the big blonde girl backing you up, no worry, I held my tail straight up, stood tall and strut my stuff. Anyway, when mom walked in the yard they all wanted to say hello to her.

Tia/Auntie Adri makes such a big fuss when I came in that I felt like I just won "Best in Show." The woman knows how to make me feel special; I like that in her. After my wonderful welcome, all they talked about was photo day and planning another fund raiser for Amigos de Los Animales, a Halloween Party and the dogs get to come, hurray! I get to come.

Who ever heard of a costume contest for dogs? There’s going to be a costume contest for dogs! I’m going to go as a bee; I’ll be the best bumble bee. No, mom just told me, I’m not eligible for the contest. Some lucky dog will get my prize, the prize I wanted. And what costume could be better than a bumble bee? We’ll just wait and see.

Thanks for reading,

Chi-Ping

That's Family by Chi-Ping

Hi Folks,

So much is happening on Sato Hill; we’re becoming a family, Blondie, Lucky, Robert Redford, mom, and me. Oh, I’d better not forget Smoki, the not so horrible cat. Did you think we were a family before?

In the traditional human sense of the word you could say we were, but they were the couple in love and we were their pets/mascotas. Their love bond shined bright, strong, multifaceted like a big diamond. They stuck out their hands to touch us, to share their love. We gave them golden love in return. After being bounced around and abused, we were star struck by the kind people.

Since Poppy passed, mom needs us, and the love energy is beginning to spread around us; we’re like a gold and diamond necklace. Four legged beings have a skill set, humans don’t understand; granted some of us are better at it than others, just like people, but none the less we feel things and visualize in pictures rather than words like you. Anyway, dad’s in the spirit realm where we can see him.

Mom just looked at Blondie and shook her head, when she saw Blondie sitting in the corner in the bedroom staring at the wall. Mom looked to see if she was after a bug or lizard, but nothing. Mom didn't know Blondie and dad were having a conversation. He talks to us.

We’re supposed to take care of mom and not to forget to watch out for Smoki; yeah, we know. At night dad likes to snuggle with mom, so I sleep at the bend of her knee, Blondie lies in full contact with her butt and back, Smoki has his head on her shoulder and his butt on her boob; we allow dad’s spirit energy to enter, so we can spend the night together. Mom may cry during the day, but she’s happy at night, now that’s family. Am I right?

My Purpose by Chi-Ping

Pouring rain, lightning, and thunder; I’m parked next to mom on the bed. Blondie holds vigil in the hallway.

Mom took off most the few days we’ve been home. I scooted past her as she went out the door. Dancing with glee I jumped in the SUV. I knew we were going someplace good. Mom tucked me under her arm, plopped me inside the door, and left without me; no fooling.

Being home with a fresh bowl of water and kibble to spare isn’t the worse fate for a dog, so I’m not complaining, but I’m supposed to be taking care of mom. Dad told us that over and over. Blondie said we were to take care of the house and the cat; the cat?? I have to protect the cat? Blondie swears that’s what mom said to her very seriously. Protect the cat is what Blondie intends to do, so we protect the cat. Grrrr…

When we were at Tia/Auntie Adri’s I ran along the Atlantic Ocean, the briny air burned in my nose. I danced down the shore with waves licking my toes. Yahoo, it’s good to be alive. I’m a happy dog. I’m a happy dog; see my tail mom. Mom, what, Mom? Don’t cry. I had to show her how sad I was, how much I miss dad; I put my head down, my ears back, and my tail down. Before I could fall to my side, she scooped me up; I love to be scooped up by her,  she smiled and then wiped tears from her eyes.

Once we were tied together we had lunch on the shore at Soleil Beach Club. Yoo-hoo, my tail was so high; my nose was in the air. We’re having lunch at a beach club. Nobody has given me a cross look or thrown my little boriqua butt out. If I had known we were going out, I’d have rolled in something special. By the time we got to the table my knees got shaky. I didn’t know what to do, so I froze in place under mom’s chair.

She sensed my overloaded nerves; talking in quiet tones she told me how good I am. This always cheers me, but when the waiter came I ducked. I can’t go anywhere, I’m tied to mom. Panic! “Good dog, Chi,” mom’s cheerful voice calmed me, but I’m not moving. I’m just going to be still here under this chair. That’s my mom in the chair, if it makes a difference.

Sniff, sniff, my nose raised to capture the scent of calamari coming my way, my way. Oh, no, I’m not moving. I know what happens. Mom and dad are the only ones we feel safe to eat when they’re very close to us. I need my space to eat. I’m not asking for any food; anyway, we get nothing then, but she’s a sucker for sad looks given ever so patiently. Chi scores! Smile, but I’m too scared to move, even when the waiter walked away.

Mom put a saucer of water down for me, like it would be okay for me to drink in here; nah, I’m not taking any chances. Mom’s pretty cool and all, but I understand dominance better than she does. This guy worried me. He set the calamari on a low table inches from my nose. Is this some sort of torture? I turned to get a closer sniff, when that waiter man came again.

My crazy mom put the calamari beside her on the bench with spaces between the boards. My nose could almost touch the plate. It smelled divine. A small piece fell to the floor just out from under my chair. Nah, I’m too scared. Mom put her feet up on the low table, imagine. The waiter passed our section I tensed, couldn’t touch the calamari. Chunks of crispy coating that smelled like heaven dropped into a pile. My mouth watered. The waiter was standing at a counter not far from us. “What a good girl,” mom whispered. A whole calamari ring landed on top of the pile splattering the crispy coating.

A dog can only take so much. I sprang to the tempting pile, began to gobble when what must be the best waiter in Puerto Rico came back with the check.  How un-nerving, but I ignored him, when mom told me again how good I am; he didn't matter.

At Soleil planning Photo Day fund raiser for Amigos de Los Animales

Life in Pinones jumped in my face each morning like a pack of dogs, well actually, it is a pack of dogs. Amigos de Los Animales Rescue and Shelter has about fifty dogs for adoption. I made some friends.

We went home and then returned to Auntie Adri’s and home again. Lefty, the little yellow boy left in the parking lot of an abandoned bar along the road mom drug home, stayed at Amigos.  Mom said we’re it; she can’t keep any more dogs. He’ll be up for adoption. I’ll miss Lefty. He had manners, not like these two cur boys here. Lefty knew how to sit waiting politely for his treats. Everybody gets their treats faster when we all cooperate.

Dad’s spirit is here with us. Blondie and I feel him. Blondie is still really sad that he’s not here to rub her. I think he’s just as cool as a spirit. We’re worried about mom

Bad Day by Chi-Ping

The second Sunday in July began like any other; mom looked on the floor in the spare room to see if I had an accident, as we walked to the door. Blondie and I made our rounds inspecting the neighborhood. Lola, Lucky and Robert Redford stayed close to the house waiting to be fed. Blondie and I would be back before the third bowl hit the floor.

Some time later, we were sniffing around up the hill, when we heard mom scream and yell. Before we could get home she came flying, I mean going fast for her down the hill hollering, “Ayuda me!” My ears went back, it scared me. I jumped at her leg as she hurried back to our house. What was happening; I wanted to know. The door slammed in my face, when I tried to walk in with her. What’s wrong with her?

“Kirt,Kirt!,” mom cried, then we ran to the patio outside the bedroom windows. I couldn't hear dad. His scent changed, we knew he was in trouble. Lucky and Red hid in the bushes nearby with wide eyes peering out. Blondie, Lola and I went into guard mode.

A man in a uniform stayed in his car in front of the house. We bounced and barked surrounding the car. “No,” mom commanded in a tone that set us back on our tails. “Hurry, hurry!” she repeated to the man over and over again. Soon other people arrived. Lola and the puppies barked, defending the door. Lucky’s hackles were up like the little boy was seriously defending his home. Lola barked, but I could tell she wasn't too sure about what she was doing. Mom told us, “NO,” before and that was good enough for me and Blondie; we know the woman. What was wrong with dad? His scent lacked vital force.

Mom yelled in Spanish and in English at people in uniforms. We stood ready to protect, but when mom started crying we didn’t know which way to go. We wanted to get in the house to comfort her. Mom and dad’s friends, the dog lover ladies, Alma and Adri arrived. Mom screamed and cried while telling them that the uniformed people wouldn’t help dad.

People from the neighborhood filled the yard and began coming into the house. Blondie, Lucky and I streaked in with some. A uniformed man waived us away from the bedroom with dad, mom, friends and uniformed people. Blondie and I know death when we smell it. Lucky ran outside to hide under the car. The only other death he ever smelled was his sister a couple of weeks ago.

It can’t be dad; he’s the greatest dad in the world. His scent was flat. Mom sobbed, wailing so hard I waited for her to howl, so I could howl with her. The uniforms retreated to the porch for a smoke. Blondie tiptoed into the bedroom, where dad sat slumped over in his wheelchair, ash grey. I stood there looking up at him, when my turn came. No more scratches behind the ears from those hands. No more sweet words from his lips. My tail dropped to the lowest, since the day I was dumped here.  I touched my nose to his leg to fill it with his scent one last time.

Farewell, friend to all, father of the furry kidz and all round great guy,

Clure “Kirt” Carr, July 14, 2013 RIP

We love you,

Chi-Ping, Blondie, Smoki, Lucky, Robert Redford, Lola

And “Mom”

My Time As a Street Dog by Chi-Ping

Blondie, Stormy and I ate leftovers, but there was never enough. We scoured the neighborhood for whatever we could find.  Stormy taught Blondie the art of ratting. She hunted with confidence when we met. As a natural, my skills were impressive from the beginning, given my family heritage, ahem Rat Terrier here! Life was wild and exciting, until Stormy got killed.

Blondie said when the Americans come back; they would feed us every day. We sleep on their porch most nights. Blondie believed they were good people even if she didn't see them for months at a time. What good are people, if one day they’re here and the next they’re not? I only met them the day they took me to the vets for fixing. I wasn't impressed.

Blondie and I tagged along with Geri, while he picked bananas. Next thing I knew Blondie tore down the hillside barking, “They’re here. They’re here.” She squealed and wiggled all over the place. I don’t know why I got excited. It’s catchy. These folks keep a dog fed, but who the hell can understand them. They speak English; something must be wrong with them. Every morning she plays a good morning game with Blondie, who gets silly and wiggly. It’s fun, but when I got silly, I bit her hand, she didn't like it. What did she expect? We were playing.

Full bellies, brushing and petting, treats Blondie and I were two happy street dogs. I don’t need to be in anybody’s house. A piece of cardboard to curl up on suits me just fine. We hang with people, when they’re doing something interesting, and they’re being nice. I’ll sleep on your porch or under the stars. It makes no difference to me.

The day the Animal Control Officers, Adri Galler and Alma Febus came to visit changed everything. Adri took the two collies living in the street with us to the Shelter Amigos de Los Animales. They talked to the lady who has many small hairy dogs. People growl, too; did you know that? Adri and Alma talked to all the neighbors. They didn't want us. They didn't want us.  Alma and Adri asked Tricia what she wanted to do. Should they take us to the shelter? These ladies seem nice enough, but I didn't want to go. This is home. What is a shelter anyway?

Tricia said Blondie will be her dog. She loves her. Kirt told her that I would be no extra trouble and take me, so we went to the PetVet, Dr. Gwen, who fixed us. I didn't get sick like last time. A few days later Smoki, the cat and I were on a plane!

To be continued. Chi-Ping  

Life's A Bitch by Chi-Ping

For those who don’t know or remember my story; I’m a small, savvy “Sata” in black and tan, my name is Chi-Ping.

After a long time of living in a bedroom pooping and peeing on paper, I went for a ride in my person’s SUV. Previous rides ended with a visit to the vet’s office, so I’m not too crazy about rides, but ecstatic enough to get out of that room and have some one-on-one time with my human; what’s a little stress? We’re riding in the country. It’s all good.

Next thing I know I’m on the side of a road watching the SUV go around the curve out of my sight with the only human ever to take care of me inside. Where --- hell was I? You can’t just leave a little dog like me out on the road like this! Who did this? Don’t you know how scared I am?

Time passed. I got to know the lady who lives in the house where I was dumped. She said things like, “Bendito,” which sounded sweet. I loved her immediately. Not being too overjoyed at living outside, I smiled and wagged my tail at her, please let me in. Certain that this was my forever human I waited patiently at her door, or gate, whichever I found myself on the opposite side of, until one day I was in the house. In the house dog, that’s me!

Tricia, the American Lady in the white and blue house up the driveway, took me for a ride to be “fixed.” I was sick as a dog, an expression, which comes from being fixed; I tell you! She put me in the arms of my forever human, who said, “Gracias a Dio,” smiled, and then carried me into the house. Oh, happy day! Sick as a dog, but I was an in the house dog.”

I followed her from room-to-room. I jumped in the bed wondering what it would be like to smell her, touching my nose to her skin, but she scolded me to get off her bed. Okay, I get it; my folded ears said, “Sorry.”  

 Soon I couldn’t bear to leave her side, but the kitchen definitely became my favorite room. It was then my most horrible experience of all stunned me terribly, when my forever love chased me outside with anger flashing in her eyes.

What the, hey, you’re the one who was supposed to lay down papers. Humans have three things to do: clean food and water and papers. Sound alarm, protection, clean up of all food on the floor are but the beginning of chores handled by Satos. And where would you be, if I don’t keep those mangy mutts moving down the road?  What about your rat problem; don’t you see what I do for you? How was I to know you wanted me to pee and poop outside? I do it on papers; what's wrong with you?

On the road again, but this time I like the Satos, Stormy, may he rest in peace, taught me the ropes. Big pushy Blondie started talking to me. We’re buddies now. Take it from me, when you’re on the street you want the big girl on your side. Smile. Who needs a human to love? I've yet to meet one I could trust. I wag my tail and I get by without getting too close. Blondie and I sleep on Tricia’s porch these nights. Everybody here feeds us, but she gives us water, too. Nobody bosses Chi-Ping, well, maybe Blondie. If my forever person would take me back, she could boss me.  I still wag my tail when I see her, just in case.

Time to go for a ride; I’ll finish my story tomorrow, Mothers’ Day.

Y'all have a good one, Chi-Ping. 

A Dog's Broken Heart by Chi-Ping

Blondie trusts that woman; not me, I know better. You try really hard to please them. You never know what they’re yelling about, and then one day you go for a car ride never to return. I don’t care how nice they seem; they’re all no good. We animalitos should just take what we can get. Worry about a human is a waste of time.

Look how long I worried and prayed for the one who dropped me off on the hill. My heart ached. I thought she cried for me. She threw me out. I didn’t know, I thought the SUV made her do it. She threw me out; didn’t want me.

She picked me up. She hugged me so tight I thought I’d never get my breath. She would shake me before dropping me like a rock. When she did this, she squealed. The rest of time I was tied up right there with my waste. But I loved her. She was my life and she threw me out.  

I wag my tail for any human. It’s better when they are nice. When a hand comes my way to hurt me, I bite hard. I no longer have to put up with shaking and being squeezed ‘til I pop.

Word on the street is to never get into a car. You don’t come back. So this has happened to more than me. One day you’re an unsuspecting pet, and the next you’re standing on the side of the road wondering what happened. What kind of a creature does this?

Blondie went for a ride. I held my breath the whole time she was gone. Blondie and Stormy were my first street dog friends. Stormy died before Christmas in 2011. He was hit by a truck. Blondie went to New Orleans with me. She’s my best friend. I’ll hate that woman if anything happens to Blondie.

The car finally pulled into the driveway. Blondie barked. I barked. Blondie couldn’t wait to tell me about the super market, all the good stuff in the trunk of the car, and how she barked at all the satos she passed on the street. She said, “Look at me. Look at me. I’m in a car.”

I took the treat she offered, as she put the things away. Later, I fell asleep at the foot of her bed. She stroked my head and kissed me good night.

Chi-Ping

Katrina Cats

Cats! They’re everywhere herds of them, hiding in yards, laying beneath parked cars. You can see the “scared” in their eyes. They trust no one like Scully and Mulder.



The black cat is the keeper of the X-files, urban kitty lore of a time before the storm, when they were treated kindly on porches, or invited inside to ferret out tasty little rodents, that made women scream. Black cat said that “Our Kind was worshiped and adored before the storm,” something about a black plague.


Black cats are the eternal keepers of kitty knowledge. This explains the religious hating and fear through the ages.


Cats of other colors do what they must to make it through the day, avoiding dogs or moving car parts. The search for a meal takes so much energy. Fresh meat, a thing of the past in this neighborhood; when was the last time you saw a mouse?


Black cat said living was easy for a time after the storm. Rats and mice and tasty rodents he couldn’t name ran all over the city. The living was easy.


There isn’t a living cat on the street from that time of plenty. Progress took care of that. Descendants hear the tale in the cool of evening from the black cat, while they wait for the meals that don’t come.

Yes, I know this isn't about dogs. Hope you like it anyway. Tricia

My Street Dog's First Week in the City

Walking on leashes, no scavenging, squirrels and cats running in the street are a few of the things Blondie and Chi-ping have learned to deal with their first week in the city. Opossums and raccoons are treats yet in store for these two urban explorers, I can hardly wait.



The girls do not understand dogs not stopping to visit in the street. Blondie barks joyous greetings while giving play bows, only to be ignored by passing canines is obviously confusing to her.


The labyrinth of streets, so different from the country road she knew in Puerto Rico causes her to stop and stare each corner we come to taking it all in, at those moments the look on her face makes me think she is overwhelmed. Thumping her and telling her what a good girl she is gives her enough comfort to get her tail up and wagging, so I think she is handling the change fairly well.


Yesterday Kirt and I had errands to run which meant the girls were in the house for about eight hours. I had not planned on being gone that long, so with trepidation I opened the door, OMG, they did nothing wrong, how lucky can you get!


We settled in to watch some TV last night, when I paused on a Spanish speaking channel both of their heads flew around to the screen in unison.


I’ve known dogs to hide bones, rawhides, special toys or even dog bones for later, but Chi-ping shoveled up golf ball sized mouthfuls of ground beef and rice to hide in unlucky places like under my pillow, in my shoe and in the corner. When I first saw the moist mixture, I thought it was vomit, as I found more I realized she is a little hoarder, watching her steal from Blondie’s bowl, when her head was turned confirmed it.


I can understand an animal making a kill, not being able to finish it, but with all the dogs I’ve known over the years, I haven’t seen this degree of hoarding, if you have a story of food stashing, please, share it. This I find fascinating.


God bless, may dogs be with you, Tricia.

Street Dog Travel Preparation

Operation get dogs ready for travel and city life progresses with Blondie slowly learning to come in the house and get along with Smoki, the cat, who keeps taunting her with his growls and his poor little kitty sounds he makes when he is going to whop some dog butt.

After fifteen years of living in a dog kennel and day care, this cat knows dogs, pushing their buttons is his favorite game.


Smoki introduced himself to the girls one on one so he could establish his relationship. The “ki” needs to be respected, after all, it’s his house.


Chi-ping was having a lesson in being kenneled; Blondie was learning to stick her head in the crate to take small pieces of meat and a bone, when Smoke decided to give her a lesson in the “Ki” gets what the “Ki” wants.


Since Blondie was afraid to go into the crate to get the meat, Smoki showed her how to walk in and started chewing on her bone. Grrrah, the little kiki voice warned, Rrruff , my meat Blondie said plainly in her best I, me, mine voice. Flying feline fist of fury flew in the face of the big street dog, this cat is crazy.

 Oh, shit is probably what came out of my mouth as I ran into the front room where my cat is in the crate that the dog now desperately wants in, leave it to the cat to interfere with my training plans, so Smoki spent the night in the crate next to the complaining, Chi-ping, who gives full voice to her sorrow at being confined, while Blondie roamed the house without an accident.


In the morning after breakfast Chi-ping had another lesson in being kenneled, I don’t want to be the idiot on the plane with the dog that won’t fly quietly, she will have as many lessons as she needs to get this.


Blondie spent the day visit friends on the island, saying goodbye, with each stop we made she became more comfortable with getting in and out of the car. With ears flopping in the breeze, an open happy mouth Blondie likes the car ride stuff, the leash walking is progressing nicely as long as we do not get in a hurry.


We are just a crate away from being ready to go, the crate we have is an inch too tall, the airline says it won’t fit, so we are looking for a vari-kennel 400, which Pet Smart will get their shipment in today, we hope.

Getting Street Dogs Ready to Fly

Four year old Blondie has never been in a house, so she should want to run in the door and hurry from room to room sniffing everything, right!



Of course not, Blondie’s years of experience tell her not to go into the house, even high quality treats will only bring her so far in before she becomes apprehensive and heads back outside. Slow and steady will bring her in with minimum stress; can I do slow and steady in five days? Hmm, don’t know, may have to cheat, we’ll see.


On Tuesday Adri returns to remove some of the neighbor’s herd of little dogs, so operation in the house and in the crate gets serious in the morning.


Adri Galler Lastra of Amigos De Los Animales Pr recommended Continental Pet Safe program for shipping Blondie, who will now fly out of Aguadilla an hour before we do, perfect, thank you so much Adri.


Before Blondie’s vet visit, I gave her a Benadryl, which works like a charm; she seemed to enjoy the part of the ride she was able to sit up to look out the window.


It started out that Chi-ping was coming to be Blondie’s moral support, but by the time we arrived at the vet, she was coming with us and needed a health certificate and a crate and collar and leash and of course reservations.


Pet Smart in Hatillo was out of vari-kennel 400, the airline approved size Blondie needs the one we bought last week is an inch too tall, so they won’t accept it. Do cargo planes really have space portioned to the inch? Amazing!



Who could leave this?



My neighbor needs to sign a form relinquishing dogs that Adri emailed to me, but my printer hasn’t been used in months, so you know we’re put zing around with that, God was have a sense of humor, the way we get tested sometimes.


Oh, well it’s another day and off to the races. Have a good one!


May dogs be with you!! Tricia

Needed: A Perfect Day in Paradise

Ever wonder what the end of your rope really looks like? What is the limit, if it doesn’t kill you?



Who wants to hear the endless chatter of what lead to the point? After my first cruelty raid or day of the dead, diseased and dying dogs, when I upchucked the medicine prescribed to prevent me from getting Leptospirosa, I kinda knew I was there.


To tell you the truth after my old friend, Stormy, the smartest Sato ever, died in the street, hit by a car; I wasn’t too sure I wanted to be here seeing him on my veranda or hearing his distinctive barks.


Because of Stormy, I fell in love with mutts, after a life time in pure bred dogs. I fell in love with the island and the people; this place has unique flavor.


As we wait for the closing on our property in Illinois, my mind is becoming focused on what I can do to help the island dogs of Puerto Rico. The raid was a pivot point in my thinking.


While all this manure is happening, my husband, Kirt, is having a big birthday, well, next year is the decade changer, those are always big birthdays, but this one deserves a trip to our favorite seaside resort in Patillas, where we’ve spent a few occasions, like my birthday a few years ago.


Yes, that’s what we need a perfect day in paradise to celebrate my honey’s big day and to give me a little rope back; I need some rope.


The internet netted a economy special of $88 per night with full breakfast in our favorite spot, no TV no air conditioner, but no matter, the scenery is spectacular, so who cares. Since we haven’t closed on the property we’re careful with money, so with the perfect economy special on the screen, I called the resort. No, that wasn’t a current price even if it was still on their web site, $108 per night is the price.


The room is still available, we coming in the morning, please, see what you can do about getting us the price advertised, I am not too proud to say we live on a budget. This will be our fifth time, we do love this place, but for $108- no TV, no radio and as it later turned out, no shampoo, no coffee maker, no cups of any kind.


We wanted to return to where we have good memories and to nourish our souls in the beauty of nature, so we did the new deal.


The lovely Frances checked us in with an introductory speech, before we walked to the room we were greeted by the two resident satos, the doxie hound mixes with perfect manners know how to smooze the guests, they knew I’d be good for leftover pizza later, they liked me!


If the sun or the soothing surf sounds don’t completely unwind you, the breeze finishes the job off every time. This was going to be the perfect day we needed to get some of that rope back.


And then I opened the bomb in my email, the news read the buyers were terminating the contract; it gave no reason that I could tell as my head exploded. We’ve been under contract with these people for six weeks, the day before my husband’s sixty-ninth birthday; where the hell is that rope?


Sorry this is personal, guys, but when ya gotta bitch, ya gotta bitch. Tomorrow’s another day. May dogs be with us!

Requiem For A Sato

My heart aches for the little border x terrier we called Stormy. Hit by a car the week before Christmas valiant protector, road warrior and most incredible friend to all in the neighborhood, was I hope gently put to sleep at an animal hospital in Arecibo.

Friend and Animal Control Officer Alma Febus called me to tell me that one of our Spanish only neighbors called to tell her to call me that Stormy was in a bad way.


Exceptional friend Lany from North Carolina found Stormy in an ant colony on the side of the road, cleaned the ants off and drove him to the veterinarian’s office where he was relieved of his suffering.


This tells you of his death, but nothing of the six years as the sato on the hill, during which we came to know him.


Everything I do on the island for or about dogs is because of this one little dog whose friendship meant the world to me. The stories of Stormy can’t be told just now; the tears flow too fast.


He was the first dog I ever hung around with that I was not in charge of, if that makes any sense. Whichever neighbor would be out near the road Stormy stood sentinel. Content to stand a few feet away he watched over the children because he was the neighborhood dog and loved us all.


With Stormy my quest to learn to speak dog rose to new height, thanks to you I learned more about dogs than thirty years of training dogs. You were the true educator.


Perhaps this will help me to grieve; I need to make peace with his death and our loss, so my focus can be on the living who need me. Good lord, there are so many in need.


Thanks for reading and may dogs be with you! Tricia

Got a New Name

Oh, what a day I’ve had running around with my new best friend. My tail held high as I pranced up the hill before him. We dug roots. He sat on a log and pet me. It feels so good to be pet; I almost forgot how good.



I got to go in the yard. He held the gate for me. I love going in the gate. The mami who lives there has cats. I ran in and chased them. Get those cats moving!


Later my friend and I worked on a construction site across the road. When we were on a roof, I barked at the satos up the hill. “See, I am a working dog; I’m not a sato.” Blondie said I was one of them.


My friend talks to me and smiles. I like talking and smiling. My tail just wags. My front feet step in place. I can’t be a street dog. I’m happy again, still I miss my human.


Today when it started raining, my friend left the gate open for me. It was great; I chased the cat off the pad. I was dry and on a pad, woo-hoo.


The mamis told the lady up the hill that my name is “Chi-ping”. That’s a good name. “Chi-pin” that makes my mouth hang open happy. Oh, there goes my tail. It’s good when everybody knows your name. :)


Chi-Ping

Another Day on The Street

Birds chirping announced the light. MY fine black Casanova trotted up the road without a sniff good-bye. I could go with him, but I was left here. Besides, the ladies here feed me. What if there is no food where he’s going? He thinks it will be better up the road, but I know he was afraid of the three big boys on the hill.



The two neighbor ladies open their houses when the sun lights the valley. They talk to me. My tail wags so hard; I like talking and food. I like talking and food. Oh, that was so good.


It’s a beautiful day in Puerto Rico; last night’s rain made everything so fresh and clean. That means it’s time to scent mark, so everybody knows I’m here.


My human must miss my cuddles. These ladies like me, but they don’t cuddle. I love laps and cuddles, but the grass is soft. The sun is warm. The mami in the one house has a clean bowl of water out for me. It’s time for a siesta.


Dreaming of my life on a lap before awakening on the street; I stepped into the road for a shake and a stretch. That’s all I remember before a big SUV hit me. “Yipe! Yipe! Yipe!,” I screamed.


The two mamis came running out of their houses. The lady up the hill appeared, watching as I shook it off. She gently held my chin, while her hand slid across my body. She said that I was lucky. Blondie and the boys came down the hill to give me a sniff; I’m okay. The ladies smiled at my prancing and tail wagging.


Now, I know why these street dogs hate cars. The lady up the hill said I was lucky; that must mean my human will be back soon.

Que Pasa?

I’m fat and spoiled. I didn’t think I was useless. My human loved me.


I ate so much, my tummy hurt. My human cuddled me so much. What will my human do without my cuddles?


I bark alert, warning is my job. My human gave me this green leather collar; it’s good leather too. How will my human know when danger approaches?


I love to be with my human. My human took me for a car ride. What will my human do without me?

Yes, folks, this beautiful little creature was dropped off just two doors down. My elderly neighbor would like to keep her; can’t afford to have her spayed. Here’s where I need to find out more about the spay certificates from the government. Like I need one more thing to do, well perhaps I do.


My neighbors are caring people, who do what they can for the satos.


In general people don’t seem to feel responsible for the dogs’ welfare. I suppose that’s the way we feel about fox and coyote in Illinois.

Missing You

All snuggled up on the sofa with Shaker and Mikki; thinking about Blondie, Stormy and Owl. I feel like such a canine chippie.



Running a kennel is not rocket science, but it is a million details. I’ve been back in Illinois handling all the little things that make a place run well or not. It’s been cold and crappy.


Carrvilla is exquisite in spring, summer and fall. I just don’t appreciate winter anymore. Dogs frolicking in snow leave me cold.


How dogs respond to their human’s absence is an issue I’ve been exploring. My last trip to Puerto Rico was the second time I’ve been away from Shaker for a couple of months. When I came back he was very clingy. My goal is to minimize the negative impact on him.


Shaker and Mikki love to be in the kennel for day care, so they go to day care all week. I have the staff feed them out there. The relationship isn’t all about food, but I felt the consistency of being feed in the kennel gave them one less thing to stress about.


Mikki has been through a few homes, so she seems less affected. In fact when she’s ready to go back inside, she goes to the kennel door. When I want her to come to the house, I have to call her. Shaker still heads to the house.


We become so important to our dogs that they miss us intensely. Dr. Dodman’s book about The Dog Who Loved Too Much shows us the extreme of separation anxiety. While it’s nice to be missed, I prefer my dogs to be well adjusted and happy.


I am way less important in the lives of the street dogs, still they each show how much they miss me in their individual ways.


Stormy holds a grudge, so we’ll see how he reacts my next return. The last time, it took six weeks for him to open up to me.