Running Alone

August 30: When San the puppy began running with me months ago it was a huge hassle and I would pray, as I crept out of the house in the mornings at dawn, that he would still be sleeping just long enough for me to escape without him chasing. He was a jumper, too excited to run to contain himself. The back of my calves were always scratched and on some days he would tire himself out around the mid point and I would have to sacrifice my run to carry him up the hills back to the house. We tried strategies to stop him from going; sometimes I would yell at him to stay at the house and he’d wait until I got just out of sight to chase me. Sometimes the family would hold him, yelping frantically, until I was long gone…but he knew the route and as soon as they released him he was off like lightning, racing up behind me faster than you would believe dachshund mutt legs could go. But sometime in the last three months I unconsciously started to enjoy his company.

Today, for the first time in these months, I ran alone.

I originally thought that this entry would be a eulogy to my late running partner, San Gonzalez Ortega Hunt, but he is still alive. On Friday he was hit by something, probably a motorcycle, as I said he is still alive. We don’t run on the weekends and he’s sort of a vagabond anyway so when he didn’t come home I didn’t even notice. On Saturday morning my dad and I happened to be down at the local convenience store partaking in a cerveza for his birthday when we overheard the people taking about the little dog that runs with me every morning. The prognosis wasn’t good, they told me he was at a nearby house and that he was going to die. “I’m sorry for your friend,” my dad said to me in English. They were reluctant, and a little puzzled by my concern but took me on the motorcycle to see my friend when I asked.

He wasn’t using his back legs at all laying there in their yard but I scooped him up and brought him home not exactly sure what to do next. I suggested to my brother having him put to sleep if he was in pain and not improving but he replied, “You are not the boss.” This is a culture that relies heavily on God to make the decisions. The reply to many everyday questions is “Si Dios quiere” – if God wants it. It’s also not part of the culture here to care for animals like family, dogs are dogs. So without the support of anyone I had no idea what to do. I spent the weekend bathing him, trying to get him to eat and carrying him outside to pee, thankful he was still functioning well enough to wait until he was outside. During the remaining hours he just laid wherever I set him.

Though I imagine he will never be the same he has improved in the last week and a half. Now he walks around like a circus dog with his back legs in the air and yesterday he used his back legs very gingerly! Although he is not his happy jumping self, he is eating and wags his tail whenever I come around. The other volunteer who I work with suggested that I strap him to the front of me in a baby carrier to run in the mornings. I think this is a little extreme but we may fashion him some sort of scooter if I can find some wheels his size!