I really don’t know when or where I was born… I have lived on the street for as long as I can remember and surviving is my full time job, so there isn’t a whole lot of time left for anything else. After a while you do get the hang of it… Still, it is a hard life.
The best days are Sunday, Monday and Thursday: every Sunday the male humans play soccer in the stadium and the spectators literally trash the place with left over food and all sorts of waste, so scoring a few scraps is easy. Mondays and Thursdays are garbage collection days, so I start bright and early and make the rounds sniffing every bag at every curb until I detect something edible. Then I tear into the bag trying not to swallow too much plastic and scarf down as much as I can before the other wanderers get a whiff of it and come running to claim their share. After breakfast, I find a quiet spot in the shade and take a break. In the remaining days of the week I starve, but I am able to survive.
At night I am always scared, but I usually manage to nap for a few minutes here and there, unless I am too hungry to rest. During the rainy season, drinking water is not a problem, but staying dry and warm is, whereas in the summer months it is blistering hot and you can burn your paws on the asphalt if you don’t stay put in the hottest hours of the day.
A few days ago it finally happened: I got nailed by my first car! If you roam around long enough, sooner or later you have a close call or worse. I am not sure what happened, but all of a sudden, wham!, I got snagged. My left front leg got chewed up pretty badly, but, other than that, I got away with it. Some of my friends have not been so lucky, but then, again, such is life on the street.
Anyway, I was limping around debating what to do (since the pain was becoming intolerable) when I spotted a crowd of people and dogs. I inched a little closer to take a better look and, yes!, it appeared to be one of those mass spay and neutering clinics that are routinely organized in public schools or community centers. This one was outdoors at the county fairgrounds. I sat obediently next to the entrance and whined a little so that they would notice me. Immediately, a couple of young girls dressed in blue scrubs came over and took a good look at me. While they were calming me down, a few cyclists skidded to a stop next to me. They wore shirts with images of puppies and kittens, so I figured I was safe. In no time, they snatched me up and I found myself on a table. I felt a prick in my rear and things started getting foggy.
When I woke up, I was all bandaged and no longer in pain. One of the cyclists took off on his bike then reappeared a few hours later in a car. They gently wrapped me in a blanket and placed me on the rear seat. I took a nap and woke up in somebody’s house. I had never actually been inside one of these and always wondered what the big deal was. Well, let me tell you, it is a big deal! First of all it is clean and dry in here. Then, there is always a fresh bowl of water next to my bed and delicious food (without garbage) is served to me in a nice big doggie dish. Once I am done eating, the nice man helps me outside so that I can relieve myself.
In the evening he lets me sit next to him while he reads and I snuggle close burying my nose in his lap, making sure I learn his smell really well: that way, should I get lost again, I can probably find my way back here and, maybe, he will let me stay.
By now you are probably wondering who am I. I am one of the zaguates 
(mutts) of Central America. Often born in the street, we exist on the street (which is not exactly the same as living) and the street with its colorful life is our support system.
Some times a human stops, offers a kind word, a tasty snack and a few fleeting moments of much appreciated attention. Then he is off again and we continue about our business of survival. Not everybody is so kind, but we learn pretty quickly to avoid the mean ones who boot us away, sending us scampering down the sidewalk. This time I lucked out, though. After my accident things took a turn for the better.
I am now well cared for, I wear a bright blue collar that signifies that I am no longer on my own and my leg is quickly healing. I will be running again in no time.
Please allow me to make a suggestion on how to make the ultimate difference: one that will impact our welfare for generations to come. Help promote spay and neuter as the only viable solution to the tragedy of homeless companion animals in developing nations. Your support will ensure continuity in the community outreach programs that we so desperately need. After all, if you consider than just one of us can jump start a cycle that can put up to 67,000 new strays on the streets over a six year period, you will realize how important the issue of spay and neuter is in order to save lives and end our suffering. During this latest spay and neuter clinic-- the one I stumbled upon--37 animals were “fixed” for a total cost of less than $400.
That’s roughly 2,479,000 less strays between now and 2016 in case you were wondering.
Muchisimas gracias from all of us furry wanderers!
To learn more about spay and neuter in Central America visit Cycle 4 Strays and the McKee Foundation.
Support Cycle 4 Strays!
Go to www.cycle4strays.org for more info.
Cycling for Animal Welfare.