I am sitting on a beach in Puerto Vallarta, and it is 6:30 a.m. (Yes, I realize the lack of sympathy engendered when it's double digits below zero back in Duluth, but the setting is only background to what follows). I come to the beach early as it's first come, first served for the four beach huts that are thatch-covered and provide curtains to shade out later sunlight while allowing ocean breezes to flow through. Puerto Vallarta is a delightful, vibrant city with many nooks and crannies to explore.
While out on daily walking excursions, I had noted a particular dog with a distinctive curly tail. I even pointed him out to my companion, thinking I had seen the animal near the beach area, too.
As I was ensconced in the beach hut a day earlier, who should appear but my four-legged friend? He looked at me, circled twice and then scratched out a place on the sand not 6 inches in front of the hut. There he rested peacefully for nearly 30 minutes before awakening to rejoin some other apparent strays roaming the beach.
On this morning when I arrived, who should be waiting for me again with tail wagging? Alas, my short-haired, four-legged friend. He allowed me to enter, made his circle and planted himself outside the hut, apparently my self-appointed guardian.
Certainly we humans have a strong attachment to dogs, but there must be an equally strong reverse connection. I had neither fed nor touched this animal, but here he lies ever faithful, literally at my feet.
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It has prompted me to think about man and dog. I fondly recall growing up with Pal, our springer spaniel, who doubled as my childhood buddy and my father's hunting companion. Then there were later versions, different breeds, as my mother used dogs to replace the five kids who grew up and moved out. Then there were dogs in my own child-raising years and relatives who had dogs -- always happy to see me, to be scratched behind the ears, to wrestle, to go hunting, or to go for a walk in the woods.
And then I began to read and see movies and plays about dogs. Was there anything sadder than "Old Yeller"? Have you read "The Art of Racing in the Rain"? Have you seen a theater production of "Sylvia"? If you also like dogs, try this triumvirate. (There's also Jack London's "Call of the Wild" and "White Fang.")
I recall reading another man's tribute to his recently deceased dog. Among his reminisces: "I think he had a satisfactory sex life. I took him in the car one day to breed with a female in heat. Then we went the next day to make sure things had worked. On the third day my dog was waiting in the car."
At the risk of offending cat aficionados, Minnesota Public Radio once pronounced, "Just remember, if you're going to get a dog, you're adding a member to your family; if you're going to get a cat, you're staff!"
It's now 50 minutes later. My friend just loped off to chase an ATV on an adjoining property. He was barking in Spanish. We leave tomorrow. Will he be here to say, "Adios amigo"?
Tom Wheeler is a longtime Duluth-area businessman, civic leader, philanthropist and regular contributor to the News Tribune Opinion page.
