|There is actually a cat body. It's not just a dismembered head.|
And these are clinic dogs enjoying the highlight of their day:
|Come down and talk to us, kitty. We just want to meet you.|
I had just fed everyone the Anti-Atkins-Fatten-Street-Dogs-Diet of huge amounts of rice with organ meat so this was a freakin' red letter day for them. Dinner and a movie. If you're having trouble putting this together, I give you the long shot:
|Don't do it roof kitty. You have so much to live for.|
They love them some Cat TV. There is actually a cat who lives here who belongs to the caretaker, a deadpan black and white cat with a wide face named, disingenuously, Gata. Gata hangs out behind the gate on the staircase where she spends most of her time engaged in an endless staring contest with Blanca, a lanky white sight hound mix.
|We could be friends. Or I could, you know, just chew on you a bit.|
Cat staring is a huge thing at Casa Lupita. Usually street dogs are pretty blase about cats so I put this obsession down to the fact that of the five dogs now residing there, three are teenagers. And we all know what assholes teenagers are.
|Blanca practices counter terrorism.|
First there is Blanca, the most energetic and outgoing of the three of them. She's the first to greet you but also the first to steal anything she can get her mouth around. With all of the Teens, I have no idea where they came from. They were brought in from different people with injuries and illnesses as well as personable temperaments that make them ill suited to a life of Street Doggery. It's difficult to avoid kicks and poisoning when you're as friendly and outgoing as a car salesman.
|Canela practices pathetic skinniness.|
Less outgoing but more playful is Canela. Canela will cringe the first few times you try to touch her but when she gets confident she's a party animal. She's the only one of all the dogs that has some idea of what actual play looks like and will attempt it frequently. This is very disconcerting to the other teens who are all down with the occasional zoomie but find her joie de vivre a little frightening.
|Can I have my head back now?|
The dark horse in the group is the skinniest teen, a bony shepherd mix that the caretaker calls Blacko. Blacko is all cool with me and the whole organ meat and rice thing but keeps her distance. She doesn't skitter away from me if I pat her but she gives me this tentative look that lets me know she'd really prefer I didn't. Or that I'd at least buy her a few more dinners before I'd try anything else.
|Who doesn't enjoy a good boiled liver?|
There's also Rufino, a dog with a bad leg that took a machete whacking and keeps on ticking. He's my favorite dog here. The last resident is an impossibly old dog from the lake called Viejo (it means old, shockingly). Viejo seems a bit batty - I don't know how well he sees or hears - but happy enough. He stands under the tree in the yard and wags his tail at it slowly. Perhaps he's senile or maybe he's picking up signals from Planet Ancient Dog. I don't know. There's a rumor that he belongs to someone at the lake that wants him back. Someone had to have cared for him for him to live long enough to be this oblivious. He likes organ meat and palm trees, I know that.
Again, more on that later.
On the Big Freakin' Scary-Ass Puppet front, I'm NOT pleased to announce Armageddon is coming and it's made of goddamn made of paper-mache. If you've been following this at all - and really, everyone SHOULD follow the Big Freakin' Scary-Ass Puppet saga - the whole situation has totally crapped the bed. Remember how I said I'm scared of puppets and clowns and the across the street neighbors made gigantic evil puppets and leave bits of them in the street? Look - LOOK - at what was outside my shower this evening:
It's a goddamn puppet clown head. And it's the size of a sedan.
Buy your bottled water, people. The end is near.
I think I might be afraid of my shower window now. I'm going to turn around and see that thing peering through the window at me.