MUNGO EATS Latin America

We awoke this morning to find a tent pitched near the van with a motorcycle parked close by.  The motorcycle was draped with Canadian flags, but had California license plates.  We awaited the emergence of the tent’s occupant to find out the true identity of this traveller.  Was he a Canadian with an American bike, or was he an American trying to pass as a Canadian to make his travels easier?  Sara made first contact.  It turns out the rider was indeed Canadian, from Edmonton, no less.  Marty, the computer geek turned professional musician, is travelling from Colombia to Ushuaia, Argentina on his motorcycle, that he purchased from an American (hence the California plates).

We had  a wonderful talk with Marty.  We discussed things we loved about South America, didn’t so much love about South America, and things we missed from home.  Marty had 640 km to cover today, after a noon start, so after coveting his almost finished jar of peanut butter (one of the things we miss), we said goodbye to our new friend and wished him safe and happy travels.  It is so strange sometimes to find folks from so near home, as far away from it as we are.  Safe travels Marty, thanks for the English conversation!!

On to other news.  Shortly after arriving in this town, we passed an old dog in a doorway that was shaking.  The kids thought the dog was cold, but truly he was having a seizure.  Seizures are not that uncommon in old dogs, so I didn’t really spend too much time thinking about it.  A few days after we hit town, we were told by our old tow truck/ mechanic friend, that someone had poisoned his dog, the very same one that had chased us halfway to our van on the highway.  We felt very sorry for our friend as it was obvious he loved his dog a great deal.  A second dog of his had also been poisoned, but had recovered.   News of the poisoning however put the shaking dog in a new light, and I started to think that perhaps it had been poisoned as well. 

The campground we are staying at is near the edge of town.  Every day we walk Mungo near the campground on some gravel roads.  I think the roads are mostly just there so that the residents can drive out to the desert and dump garbage more easily.  We have let him off leash in this area as well.  Mungo really has the attention span of a gnat and it takes very little to distract him, so when we let him off leash, it has to be in a wide open space, with very few distractions around.  If we are going to let him off leash, we first need to get passed the killer greyhounds that live a few houses away from the campground.  One of the hounds is an old fart with a limp, the other is a younger, more spry specimen.  They always bark, but it depends totally on the old fart as to whether they give chase or leave the yard at all.  The young fellow is able to give chase, but will not do so if he doesn’t have the old fart to back him up.  So if the old guy is feeling lazy and doesn’t want to leave the yard, the young one will bark from the yard edge.  If the old  guy is feeling spunky, and starts to hobble after us, the young guy will give us a great rush.  Occasionally they are not in the yard, and one day when we passed, the young guy was tied to his dog house.

This morning as we passed “greyhound gauntlet”, the old fart started up his predictable bark, but we could not see the young guy anywhere.  Old fart even started to hobble down the road toward us, and his younger friend was no where to be seen.  As we passed the dog house, we finally caught sight of  the young hound, laying flat on his side, next to the dog house, dead as a doornail.  I have no proof that the dog was poisoned, but I am very suspicious that this is how the hound met his end.  So now I am petrified to let Mungo off leash.  If he finds a tasty tidbit, it takes him seconds to gobble it up.  Even if he does come when called, he can gobble down a tasty treat, while running back to us.  So unfortunately, Mungo is now restricted to leash walks until we get out of this town.  I couldn’t bear to have him poisoned!!  Poor hound, I know he loves to run, but better walk for a few weeks than never run again!