RIP Fanta

Saturday, July 21^st

Glenda, Andrea (my new favorite German volunteer), Fanta, and I set out to meet Alice for dinner at Susi’s (a local woman who cooks for people on the weekend). We followed the dirt road leading to Hawaii until it led to the small highway. As soon as we emerged on the side of the highway, two motorcycles sped past and one of them hit Fanta. Unfortunately, he was a black dog walking at night, so I’m sure they didn’t see him.

My heart broke when I heard him yelp and saw him tumble down the road. As we ran to him calling his name, he hobbled over to us. The man who hit him came back to pick up his dropped backpack, but not to see if Fanta was OK. The culture here views dogs as “replaceable.” We called Alice and Mariachi to help us and tried to comfort Fanta in the meantime. Once Mariachi and Alice arrived we were able to see that he broke his back leg and tail. The police helped transport him back to the parque for us and we did the best we could to make him feel comfortable. Alice tried giving him some painkillers, but determined that he was suffering from internal bleeding. We petted him and talked to him until he died about 40 minutes later. It was absolutely heart-breaking for those of us who knew him well.

The closest vet was a cattle vet about 4 hours away, so we were basically on our own trying to take care of him. It is so different here than in the US. In San Diego, I know of TWO 24-hour emergency pet clinics within 15 minutes of my house, but here there isn’t even a real dog vet for about 6 hours.

He was one of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever met. He was lovable, goofy, and a great watch dog. Whenever I was with him, I never felt unsafe. He barked at intruders and gave kisses to friends. He walked with me every morning for crawl counts and every night for patrols. Even though other people would walk in the opposite direction, he always chose to walk with me. He kept me company on those walks and it was always fun to watch him sniff and dig around in the sand. Whenever I was eating, without fail he would lay his head on my lap because he knew what a sucker I was for giving him table scraps or a good scratch behind the ears. Although I had only known him for about 3 weeks, I felt a special connection with him. When I arrived here, he was the first thing that made me think I could call the parque home for the next six months. I know he is in a better place now. Although it might not seem like it, his passing now was probably for the best. He had heartworm and it would’ve killed him slowly and painfully over the next couple years.

Thank you Fanta for being such a loyal companion. I’m going to miss you.