Friday, October 4, 2013


Dominican dogs are not like Canadian dogs.

They're hunters.

Some are starved and will go after anything to eat.

It's been inbred in them for many generations.

They don't have the pampered lifestyle like we're used to.

Even Pathetic Puppy.

We got her as a baby, but she's still a wild loon in search of crabs, rats, geckos, frogs and anything else she can find to hunt.

She's not too keen on kibble.

She'd probably prefer the rice 'n beans diet most dogs have here.

Then there's Old Ghost Face and The Thug.

They have serious hunting mentality.

Especially when they want to kill the cats.

Which they tried to do the other night.

I was happily working my way through to the Dexter finale, when I heard Papi screaming, then tumbling above my head.

At first I thought it was a plain old dog scrap that we've become accustomed to, and cringed as I assumed Papi would use the greatest technique he's found; The Wheelbarrow.

Simply grab The Thug by the back legs and pull him off.

He can't fight while he's balancing on his front paws.

What I didn't know, was that when Papi tried to pull The Thug off The Mrs., well, Old Ghost Face went in to finish the task.

I could hear the fighting wasn't stopping.

Quickly I knew this wasn't a normal dog fight and my mind jumped straight to envisioning cat intestines strewn across the floor.

When I finally snapped out of the sights that had me frozen, swirling in my head, I hobbled upstairs as fast as I could, creating a lot more pain for my ankle.

When I got to the top of the stairs, all the dogs were outside and Papi was screaming, "It's not good!  It's not good!"

I figured my assumption was right and that I'd walk into a scene straight out of the Dexter show I was just watching.

But instead, I found lamps strewn across the floor, cables in a mess, and a cat in shock.

We thought she had internal bleeding or possibly a broken back, or both.

She wasn't moving.

Through our tears and panic, we called the emergency number for Dr. Bob, who told us to immediately go buy a serum.  "If anything is going to keep her alive through the night, this is it."

The next morning, we reached under the bed and thought she had passed in the night.

She wasn't responding when we touched her, but I got in close enough that could feel her chest cavity moving with her breathing.

I pulled her limp body out from under her hiding place, we brought her in, and were relieved to find that she is merely bruised.

Nothing broken, no internal bleeding, and no neurological damage.

Yes, she is VERY sore, and will take a few days to heal, but he said, "Her fur saved her."

Normally, we shave her, because she's always so hot with that thick, black, Persian fur, but we haven't found an adequate groomer.

Her fur saved her life.

Her fur is her super power.

She still hasn't come out from under the bed since the whole disaster, but she's eating.

This is not the life I thought these cats would have.

I thought they'd be chasing butterflies and geckos, enjoying their new country.

I guess it's just as well.

Here, people eat cats too.

Ours would make a nice meal.

Just ask the dogs.

every day, i learn more

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