A Caribbean stray in Europe

It always amazes me -- and sometimes it´s a bit scary -- how life takes sudden turns and all of sudden you find yourself in a different place with different sets of responsibilities. But it just doesn´t happen to people -- pets also get caught up in the whirlwind changes of their masters´ livestyles.

Toby and I met one night outside a bar in San Juan, Puerto Rico sometime in February 2002. It was a humid but cool night. The bar owners left the front door open to help ventilate the smoke and let the fresh air in. Wagging his tail in delight, the miniature mutt stood out on the sidewalk peering in the doorway as if he were waiting for somebody, though he was very hesitant about coming inside. It was love at first sight!

He had no collar and appeared to be a stray puppy. After pondering what to do (and a few beers later), I decided to load him in my Suzuki Vitara and take him home. I felt that he had bumps on his skin -- the poor fellow was full of ticks. When we arrived, I gave him a can of tuna fish and water. He gobbled away, and then washed it all down with loud laps. I set out a bathroom rug on the cold ceramic tile floor. He plopped down with his face toward the wall and minutes later he was knocked out cold. For the next few years, he took over my condominium complex barking viciously from my penthouse balcony at passing dogs as to let them know he was now king of the hill. Fortunately, Toby endeared himself to my neighbors who adopted him as one of their own.

Then, it came time to leave Puerto Rico. We were going to Europe. I had never traveled with a dog anywhere so this was going to be an experience. First, Toby needed a microchip before he could enter the European Union. Then, his veternarian had to give him a health certificate which had to be approved by the U.S. Department of Agriculture and taken down to the Puerto Rican State Department so that it can be certified with the Apostile of the Haague -- a formality to assure European officials that the vet and the USDA official are legitimate. Much haggling with the airline came afterwards to allow me to take Toby inside the cabin for the eight hour journey. So much fuss for little stray, my friends said.

The day we left, Toby knew something was up. An empty condo, packed bags, neighbors coming up to say goodbye (photo above) and my renters moving in their furniture, I believe he really thought he was going to be left behind.

Toby is now about three years old living it up in Madrid, playing (and fighting!) with his new European canine friends at a neighborhood park, and slowly adjusting to his first winter. Not too long ago a woman asked me whether it would have been cheaper just to get a new dog here in Madrid instead of paying what I had to pay to bring Toby abroad. Obviously, I thought, this woman is no dog lover.