Dogs

We'd finally put the beasts to bed after the now normal pre-sleep flip-out.  Lately the kids have two speeds: on and asleep.  As K was combing through the debris left in their wake, she picked up a pair of Sylvia's pants, cargo pants, the kid's favorite kind because she can stuff the pockets full of "treasures" of all sorts.  

"What are these rocks?"  K asked.  A fair question.  It was not odd that Sylvia had a pocketful of rocks; it was odd because, while she is an inveterate packrat, Sylvia is usually discerning in her rock choices.  

"Oh, those?  Those are dog-throwing rocks," I said.  Which they were.  It's good to have a rock handy for chucking at the occasional and rare aggressive dog around Otavalo.  More often than not you don't even have to carry rocks since every other house has bits of concrete laying around, and every other house is under construction of some sort or another.  And if you're not in a neighborhood, the whole place is one volcanic cinder.  Rest assured, there's always something nearby to chuck at a dog.  

Sylvia wasn't taking any chances.  A couple of days prior to our hike (where she'd collected her dog-rocks), she'd been chased across a field by a really big dog.  This one, however, was playing, while Sylvia ran, terrified, across the field waving a stick that the dog happened to be chasing.  Poor girl.  I explained to her that she can't outrun a dog; it's better to turn and face them.  I'm not sure if this is correct, but she's taken to instructing Oakes likewise.  (Oakes nods solemnly having accepted this advice from his older sibling.)

I'm not sure you even need the rocks.  Dogs here seem to be conditioned over the generations to respond to a cocked fist.  Raise your arm like a pitcher winding up, and most dogs will scatter.  Along with street savvy -- dogs roam around in traffic and insane drivers like they know exactly what they're doing -- it must be deeply embedded in the Otavaleño perro to stay clear of cars and people with rocks.  Canines here are generally treated differently, and there are a lot of strays.  No ASPCA is running around spaying and neutering, or running ad campaigns about spaying and neutering.  I have heard, however, that officials do go around and euthanize strays once or twice a year, which is sad for this PC-conditioned gringo (of course).

I'm not sure what the official number of dogs is in Otavalo, but I'm pretty sure it's close to a bazillion (give or take a few).    If you see a dog with a collar -- or a shirt, which a surprising number of them have -- it's probably someone's pet; if not, it's probably a stray.  In Central America there was essentially one archetypal mutt: multi-colored and long in body, but sawed off at the knees.  Here, there are plenty of blends, but you can also spot all kinds of pure-looking breeds: lots of shepherds and shepherd mixes, lots of poodles and their drop-kick ilk ("look, a sausage dog!" said Oakes the other day) -- we even saw a beautiful yellow lab recently, which was clearly a stray by its shabby appearance and pack behavior.  

Even if people keep them as pets, there seems to be more of a distance between dogs and people than in the States.  Our landlords have a great little dog, Lula, now "our" dog as well.  She's a super smart pup who seems to be queen of the neighborhood despite her small size.  While I know they love her, I haven't seen the family pet her.  Lula is about to go into heat, and of course, there are plenty of eligible bachelors roaming just beyond the gates.  Ornella and the boys (Paris, age 7 and Shiri, 5) would like her to get pregnant, while her husband, William is opposed.

"If people see the mother, they'll know she's a mutt.  Then I'll have to kill the pups.  And I can't do that."  

I have been chased twice by dogs here, and both times I was on bike.  Sure enough, it's a tiny fraction of the dogs here who chase.  Back when I used to road-ride, and when everyone had a frame-pump, I'd broken one over the top of a dog's head while it pursued me snarling.  Water bottle spray can also be effective.  But since I carry neither of those now, I do keep a rock handy.