My children have a way of getting an idea fixed in their head about how we ought to spend our time together and then repeatedly asking if we can do that soon. So many times I'm too busy or it's raining or too hot or too cold or I don't have that much money…. A few weeks ago my oldest son (8) started requesting that I tell him stories of my travels in South America. The third time he asked me, he prefaced it by asking when I was going to retire. “I don't know," I answered. “Maybe never, why?” He said “If you didn't have to go to work then we could build stuff and you can tell me stories about South America and teach me Spanish”. I replied “Well we don't have as much time together as I wish we did, but we're gonna have to find time and make time”.
Saturday evening I was cooking lentils with my children in the kitchen with me when the oldest said, “Tell us some stories from when you are in South America!” At the time of my travels (2010/2011) I was living the prodigal life, so there are only so many stories you can tell elementary school kids without heavy editing…. So I picked one of my coolest stories about a dog that adopted me for a day. But there was some context first…
“ I had a girlfriend at the time who was traveling with me. We were not getting along very well, arguing all the time, and I was very angry person. We had decided to go to the beach, and we bought bus tickets and were headed towards the beach when she started having second thoughts. I really didn't like making plans and then not going through with them so I started yelling. “We are on a bus in the middle of the night in a town where we've never been where we don't know anybody. Now on top of that now we don't know where we're going!” I ended up kicking the back of the seat in front of me and the driver looked at me in the rear view mirror. “ Stop the bus and let us off! Stop the bus right here!” The driver was only too happy to get a nutcase off his bus. I threw my backpack out on the sidewalk and we disembarked. “ Now what?” My companion asked me. “ How am I supposed to know? Do you have any ideas? It's 12:30 AM and I don't even know what town this is!”
I picked a random direction to start stomping off. “Where are we going?” I shrugged and kept stomping…. right into the red light district of a city I did not know the name of. The only place open was a motel and I thought it would be good to get some sleep. The front desk was surrounded by bulletproof glass and iron bars. I did not take that as a good sign but I asked how much to spend the night. The front desk clerk just looked at me really hard like I must be completely out of my mind, which I was. I eventually got him to give me a price and paid it, sliding cash under the window. He never said another word to me, and we went to our room. One of the first things I noticed was the mirror on the ceiling over the bed. My first thought was that I had stumbled into the legendary Hotel California. The second thing I noticed was a soft music playing, like elevator music with drum beat. Oh no, I realized, This is a hooker motel. “Don't touch anything and don't unmake the bed. Just lay your sleeping bag out on top of the blanket.” I then set about to booby trap the door. I was pretty proud of myself when it was done. If anyone tried to break in, they would receive a shower of furniture and luggage and it would make a giant racket giving me precious seconds to wake up and prepare myself for a confrontation. My girlfriend looked at me like I was a madman, which I was.
I awoke afraid, hungry, lost, and near broke. Possibly one of the most miserable mornings of my life. Fortunately, this was the kind of hotel where one could both check out and leave anytime one liked, so we did so as quickly as possible. I was still too angry to be in the mood to talk about anything and I had like $1.80 in my pocket. I saw bread and cheese for sale, whipped in there and bought a hunk of each, ripped them in half and gave some to my lady, then stomped onward. We found the town square, which seemed like a wholesome place with a bunch of high school kids sitting on the courthouse steps, gawking at us as we sullenly munched our bread and cheese sitting on the base of a statue in the middle of the plaza.
A woman and her daughter approached my girlfriend and began talking with her. I could barely speak Spanish but I understood it pretty well. My girlfriend on the other hand was an absolute literal genius about languages. if I'm not mistaken she could speak 8. If the person had a strong colloquial accent or used a lot of slang, I had a strange ability to grok the meaning especially if I was full of rum (which was often the case). In those situations I was in charge of translating for my girlfriend who understood and spoke pure castellano. If a reply was required, she was in charge of delivering it. This confused people, as obviously only one of us understood Spanish and only one of us spoke it…
Anyway, this morning I didn't care. They could jibber jabber on about whatever they wanted to for as long as they wanted to as long as they didn't bother me and my cheese. Then of course they did. “She wants to know if we would like a place to stay”. I was not expecting that. “Well I don't have any better ideas, Why not?” The local woman spoke to me “ I don't know why I am doing this, I've never done anything like this before and it doesn't make any sense at all” She laughed, “When my husband gets home he's probably gonna think I'm nuts for bringing home complete strangers. Like I say I don't do stuff like this ever. I just feel like it's what I'm supposed to do, you understand?” I nodded. “Lead the way, we'll follow”.
We took the bus with her and then walked for a long time after we got off the bus. She led us to a gate in a wall. Inside the wall the Courtyard was growing with all kinds of tropical plants, and as we pass the picture window full of succulents, I noticed a decal sticker in the corner of the glass: “Jesus no es religion, Jesus es Vida”. “Jesus is life. I like it,” I said. She shrugged and waved her hand dismissively at it. “I don't know anything about all that, my parents put it there.”
Our hostess moved her daughter into her room and gave us the girls room to stay in. “Make it your home”. She fed us 3 square meals a day for 4 days and would not let me so much as wash dishes. I finally managed to convince her that if I didn't split and stack all the firewood in the Courtyard I would go batty. Once that was done, I really just needed to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. “I'm going to the market” I announced to the ladies, “Need anything?” After telling me not to do anything on her account, and then warning multiple times to be careful and not get mugged, she let me go. Finally, freedom!
As I stepped out of the gate in the wall, to my right a German shepherd lay with his head on his paws. When he saw me he stood up at attention. When I started walking down the road, the dog fell in at my heel. At first I thought it was just checking me out, or following me like so many stray dogs do. But soon I realized that he was AT MY HEEL. When I stopped he stopped. He was obviously trained by police or military to be the perfect guard dog. He must have been worth thousands of dollars. Why was he roaming the streets freely with no collar? Why had he chosen me to protect me for the day? Anyway he was awesome so I was glad he was with me. We walked for about a mile to the market, walked for miles in the market, and a mile back home, which took half a day. He never left my side, never got distracted, even when other dogs came to sniff him or when we walked by the fish at nose level. We walked by steaks, fruit, vegetables, sunglasses, flip-flops, CD's, children… He was ever alert, moved when I moved, stopped when I stopped. If anyone was thinking about attacking me, they would take one look at my companion and abandon that idea. When we got back to the place where I was staying, My guardian lay back down and put his head on his paws. “Thank you,” I told him. “Good dog.”
Once back inside, I related the tales of my new friend to the others. “ Do you know anyone that has a German shepherd that is very well-trained?” I asked my hostess. “No, does he have a collar?”
“No”
“Probably just a stray”
“I don't think he is stray. I think he is a police dog.”
She decided to go check it out for herself. When we opened the gate, the dog was gone. She looked at me with one eyebrow up. “Maybe it was an angel.” I wasn't sure whether she was serious or not. I could have been easily convinced though.
Back inside, I asked if I could use her computer to check my email, as it been a week or so since I had. When I logged in, there was an email from my mother. She said she hoped I was doing well, etc., That she'd had a very strange encounter. “ I was doing my laundry at the laundromat, and there was a traveling kid with a backpack and a dog in there. I was hoping he would just leave me alone. Then I realized that my son is somewhere in the world in some town with a backpack, and I would want someone to take care of him. So I bought him lunch and gave him some cash and drove him 20 miles down the highway. On the way back home I was praying that God would send someone to take care of my son if he was in trouble”.
At this point in my story telling, I turned my face away from my children and broke down crying. When I turned back to them my face was covered in tears and I was sobbing so hard I could barely speak. They don't yet have a category for “happy tears”, so they seemed a little concerned.
“And he did! He took such good care of me when I was lost and hungry. Just like my Mama asked!”
The email was sent the day I woke up in the skeezy motel and ate bread and cheese for breakfast.