Unleashed

The Little Yellow Dog Gang cares not a wit for leash laws. No collars, no microchips, no fixed address, but heaps of street smarts.

Yes, I’ve named them:
—Valiente, the leader, male, yellow fur, floppy ears, joyful, the smallest
—Beatrice, the biggest, barrel-shaped, dark brown, female, ready to rumble
—Emma, shy, fine-boned, black, bat ears, female, youngest

All are smaller than a malamute, larger than a chihuahua, with short coats and docked tails. They will chase coyotes, rabbits, birds, cats, and occasionally ATVs, motorcycles, and garbage trucks. All three seem healthy, happy, and eager for adventure. They have accompanied me to several beaches, Whale Hill, Walmart, Sam’s Club (super far), various fruterías and tiendas, and the pop-up pizza vendor. On each inland excursion, they investigate the terrain and other canines, drink from the pink collapsible water bowl when we spy spigots, and wait patiently outside while I shop.

Yes, I feed them. But I didn’t for the first month of our acquaintanceship. And still they greeted me enthusiastically, then trotted along wherever I lead them. (Well, the heat will turn them back, as it should turn me back.)

“You usin’ sign language with your dogs?” a guy asked from a truck one day, and I nodded, even though they aren’t mine. As a dog trainer, he was impressed, but what he didn’t notice is that they ignored my signal to halt. But voice commands work. Usually they keep track of where I am, looping back every so often.

Smart, funny, sensitive, kind, protective, affectionate, playful: I’m lucky to be an honorary member of the pack.

Bookshelf:
—Romy & Julio: a novel of hope
—Diary of a Reluctant Traveler: 15 months on the road from coast to coast to coast—solo
—Sea Change: stories & splashes
—Shoulds are for Saints: the true life adventures of Suzy Le Speed
—Dance First …ask questions later: poems & paintings