Muttly
I moved to Costa Rica about three and a half years ago. I was alone, living in a one room cabin on the edge of
civilization. It was an exciting time for me, but the days were fraught with the unfamiliar, scarcely populated with new,
yet surprisingly friendly people, enveloped in the unknown, and often capped off with long, quiet and lonely, yet oddly
exhilarating dark nights.
One day, as a matter of curiousity, I tossed half a sandwich out my window and watched with great interest to see what
might come along on the edge of what I considered at the time to be "The Jungle", and eat it.
It wasn't five minutes before a scroungy looking yellow haired Mutt moved in and scarfed it up. "A dog", I thought, "How
did he get here so quick?" I wondered if he had been surveiling me. I admit to some dissappointment. I had been
hoping for some exotic creature to come along using it's highly specialized sandwich tracking nose to find my offering.
Something with a long tail and perhaps some mind-boggling doo-dads dangling from it's head, something from a page
in National Geographic, something jungle-like. Instead, I got Muttly.
Little did I know at the time he would become my best friend and companion for the next three and a half years.
He returned a day or two later and checked me out again. There was a friendly neediness about him that made me
feel as if I was looking in a mirror. We sort of clicked, I guess, and soon I took him to the river and gave him a bath with
some doggie soap, started treating him for Mange, removing ticks, and Torsela Worms (nasty bastards they), and
generally restoring him to health and happiness. He seemed glad to have found a home, and moved right in.
Then I found out he belonged to my nieghbor, Uli. OOPS.
Well..Uli and I talked it all out, and since the birth of his daughter, and him having to return to Germany for extended
periods, Uli realized the dog was best off where he was, and graciously displayed no hard feelings about me stealing
him. His name was "Googli" at the time (which means "Happy" in German); he soon became "Muttly", after some
tortuous deliberations. In retrospect, he deserved a somewhat less ignominious sort of name, but I got the impression
he understood my sense of humor and was willing to suffer some of it to make me happy.
Uli's other dog, "Happy" (in English, Uli has a sense of humor too), a reddish floppy-eared sort of small Spaniel-like
Mutt, soon came visiting my cabin, persistantly.. to be with Muttly. I never fed her, and tried to run her off so she didn't
move in too, but then, Uli and Family left the dog when they went to Germany. She showed up at my place after a
couple of weeks, hungry and desperate looking, and there was no turning back. She moved in permanently, became
"Mini-Mutt," and The Muttly Crew was born.
"Muttinhead" stumbled in a few months later and rounded out "The Crew". see:
civilization. It was an exciting time for me, but the days were fraught with the unfamiliar, scarcely populated with new,
yet surprisingly friendly people, enveloped in the unknown, and often capped off with long, quiet and lonely, yet oddly
exhilarating dark nights.
One day, as a matter of curiousity, I tossed half a sandwich out my window and watched with great interest to see what
might come along on the edge of what I considered at the time to be "The Jungle", and eat it.
It wasn't five minutes before a scroungy looking yellow haired Mutt moved in and scarfed it up. "A dog", I thought, "How
did he get here so quick?" I wondered if he had been surveiling me. I admit to some dissappointment. I had been
hoping for some exotic creature to come along using it's highly specialized sandwich tracking nose to find my offering.
Something with a long tail and perhaps some mind-boggling doo-dads dangling from it's head, something from a page
in National Geographic, something jungle-like. Instead, I got Muttly.
Little did I know at the time he would become my best friend and companion for the next three and a half years.
He returned a day or two later and checked me out again. There was a friendly neediness about him that made me
feel as if I was looking in a mirror. We sort of clicked, I guess, and soon I took him to the river and gave him a bath with
some doggie soap, started treating him for Mange, removing ticks, and Torsela Worms (nasty bastards they), and
generally restoring him to health and happiness. He seemed glad to have found a home, and moved right in.
Then I found out he belonged to my nieghbor, Uli. OOPS.
Well..Uli and I talked it all out, and since the birth of his daughter, and him having to return to Germany for extended
periods, Uli realized the dog was best off where he was, and graciously displayed no hard feelings about me stealing
him. His name was "Googli" at the time (which means "Happy" in German); he soon became "Muttly", after some
tortuous deliberations. In retrospect, he deserved a somewhat less ignominious sort of name, but I got the impression
he understood my sense of humor and was willing to suffer some of it to make me happy.
Uli's other dog, "Happy" (in English, Uli has a sense of humor too), a reddish floppy-eared sort of small Spaniel-like
Mutt, soon came visiting my cabin, persistantly.. to be with Muttly. I never fed her, and tried to run her off so she didn't
move in too, but then, Uli and Family left the dog when they went to Germany. She showed up at my place after a
couple of weeks, hungry and desperate looking, and there was no turning back. She moved in permanently, became
"Mini-Mutt," and The Muttly Crew was born.
"Muttinhead" stumbled in a few months later and rounded out "The Crew". see:
September 8, 2008
BUT..this is about Muttly, and he more than deserves my full attention, though, sadly, it's too late to save him. I can at
least pay him his due here, with the best of my pathetically inadequate abilities .
I am in the early stages of realizing the enormity of the loss of him. Perhaps the event's terribleness has been diluted
somehow after I've had to stare the possibillity of his death in the face a few times previously, in very recent months.
This was a tough year for Muttly, and a tortuous one for me, dealing with his twice near-death bouts with Tick Disease,
then working with subsequent damage to his bone-marrow's abillity to produce white blood cells, among others. A bout
which tragically ended Saturday as the result of a deep bite wound below his right eye from a dog he was running off the
property. The really sad part was his suffering for five days in pain as his face went from infected, to gangrenish, while
the local Veterinarian I trusted led me along, one day at a time to the point I should have been at the outset, which was
driving Muttly over the windy, mountain road to San Isidro to seek out a Veterinarian that knew what the fuck he was
doing. I don't know for sure that the new, U.C. Davis educated Vet could have saved him, considering the enemia, and
loss of blood, but I am certain Muttly would have had the fighting chance he was deprived at the hands of the local hack.
I will always carry the awful weight of guilt for not realizing the gravity and mishandling of the situation sooner than I did.
Muttly was the scrappiest of my dogs, and held his own with much larger dogs through a selfless sense of duty that
seemed inherent to his nature. He ran ahead of me on my bike or in my car, barking and clearing the path of any
interlopers, announcing my approach with a well-meant, yet often undesired effect. It was not uncommon him frightening
hapless passers-by, women and children alike, forcing many apologetic gestures on my part. Thankfully, he had the
wherewithal to never actually hurt anyone. He did nip a few Ticos with Bad Attitudes, however, never drawing blood, that
I know of.
Muttly was the smartest of The Muttly Crew. When I shared that observation with Neighbor Mark, he quickly said,
"That's sad"... which I thought was pretty funny at the time.
Just a couple of weeks ago, when I had the three dogs in the car (all sitting in the front seats) and was giving Mark a ride
home, Muttly was the only one that had the sense to jump into the back to make some room for us as we climbed in;
prompting Mark to comment, "He IS the smart one!", with a remarkable lack of sarcasm.
Muttly led the Welcome Home Festivities every time I returned from even the briefest of absences. From the balcony
he made Muttly Sounds, similar to, "ROOORooOROOO".."AROOAROOo....roo?" as Muttinhead and Rocky (Racoon)
joined in with various barks and gleeful exhibitions. I buried him Sunday, next to his old running-mate and pal, Mini-Mutt
SInce then, there seems scant joy in the house. I return home to little or no fanfare, compounding the sadness that is,
for now, the essense of our existence. His absence is omni-present, and I am struggling to combat an insidious
depression threatening to fill the void.
For years now my dogs and I have spent most of our time exclusively together; my attempts at social life have been
cursory, at best. I seem to enjoy people in increasingly smaller doses. The Mutts are my family and comprise a large
proportion of my friends. It seems surreal that Muttly, who just last week was running amok on the beach with me, is now
buried in a sack out in my yard, dead and rotting, never again to be the first to spy me putting on my sandals and
initiating the WE'RE GOING OUT flurry of bounding-about and related mahem always accompanying a wildly thrilling ride
to the market, or a walk to the river through the bamboo, or perhaps taking the garbage down to the road. No more
Jesus Lizards to chase under logs and enthusiastically dig for with little success, or Timid Ticos to intimidate for him. No
more the joy of his inimical antics for me.
It's all over for my sweet dog, Muttly, and it fucking sucks. Life will never be the same for us survivors, and all there is to
do is appreciate his being here with us for the time he was, and be thankful for it. Thank you, Dear Muttly, for loving me
so much, making my life better, and our little world a better place.
.
least pay him his due here, with the best of my pathetically inadequate abilities .
I am in the early stages of realizing the enormity of the loss of him. Perhaps the event's terribleness has been diluted
somehow after I've had to stare the possibillity of his death in the face a few times previously, in very recent months.
This was a tough year for Muttly, and a tortuous one for me, dealing with his twice near-death bouts with Tick Disease,
then working with subsequent damage to his bone-marrow's abillity to produce white blood cells, among others. A bout
which tragically ended Saturday as the result of a deep bite wound below his right eye from a dog he was running off the
property. The really sad part was his suffering for five days in pain as his face went from infected, to gangrenish, while
the local Veterinarian I trusted led me along, one day at a time to the point I should have been at the outset, which was
driving Muttly over the windy, mountain road to San Isidro to seek out a Veterinarian that knew what the fuck he was
doing. I don't know for sure that the new, U.C. Davis educated Vet could have saved him, considering the enemia, and
loss of blood, but I am certain Muttly would have had the fighting chance he was deprived at the hands of the local hack.
I will always carry the awful weight of guilt for not realizing the gravity and mishandling of the situation sooner than I did.
Muttly was the scrappiest of my dogs, and held his own with much larger dogs through a selfless sense of duty that
seemed inherent to his nature. He ran ahead of me on my bike or in my car, barking and clearing the path of any
interlopers, announcing my approach with a well-meant, yet often undesired effect. It was not uncommon him frightening
hapless passers-by, women and children alike, forcing many apologetic gestures on my part. Thankfully, he had the
wherewithal to never actually hurt anyone. He did nip a few Ticos with Bad Attitudes, however, never drawing blood, that
I know of.
Muttly was the smartest of The Muttly Crew. When I shared that observation with Neighbor Mark, he quickly said,
"That's sad"... which I thought was pretty funny at the time.
Just a couple of weeks ago, when I had the three dogs in the car (all sitting in the front seats) and was giving Mark a ride
home, Muttly was the only one that had the sense to jump into the back to make some room for us as we climbed in;
prompting Mark to comment, "He IS the smart one!", with a remarkable lack of sarcasm.
Muttly led the Welcome Home Festivities every time I returned from even the briefest of absences. From the balcony
he made Muttly Sounds, similar to, "ROOORooOROOO".."AROOAROOo....roo?" as Muttinhead and Rocky (Racoon)
joined in with various barks and gleeful exhibitions. I buried him Sunday, next to his old running-mate and pal, Mini-Mutt
SInce then, there seems scant joy in the house. I return home to little or no fanfare, compounding the sadness that is,
for now, the essense of our existence. His absence is omni-present, and I am struggling to combat an insidious
depression threatening to fill the void.
For years now my dogs and I have spent most of our time exclusively together; my attempts at social life have been
cursory, at best. I seem to enjoy people in increasingly smaller doses. The Mutts are my family and comprise a large
proportion of my friends. It seems surreal that Muttly, who just last week was running amok on the beach with me, is now
buried in a sack out in my yard, dead and rotting, never again to be the first to spy me putting on my sandals and
initiating the WE'RE GOING OUT flurry of bounding-about and related mahem always accompanying a wildly thrilling ride
to the market, or a walk to the river through the bamboo, or perhaps taking the garbage down to the road. No more
Jesus Lizards to chase under logs and enthusiastically dig for with little success, or Timid Ticos to intimidate for him. No
more the joy of his inimical antics for me.
It's all over for my sweet dog, Muttly, and it fucking sucks. Life will never be the same for us survivors, and all there is to
do is appreciate his being here with us for the time he was, and be thankful for it. Thank you, Dear Muttly, for loving me
so much, making my life better, and our little world a better place.
.
My Dear Dog,
Muttly
Muttly
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