Dog Woes

I was talking to my Dad the other day on the phone and he was asking about Bourbon …

“Dad,” I groan, “Puppies aren’t fun. They’re a lot of work!”

“Hannah, you only thought puppies were fun because you never had to train them or deal with their chewing …”

Touche.

The other day I can home from a long day of getting my butt kicked by Honduran mountains and creeks. I’ve always considered myself to be a well-balanced person, and despite not being the most graceful person (ironic because my name means “Graceful One”) I still manage to walk on more challenging terrain. Here I am in my state-of-the-art hiking boots that I agonized over for like 45 minutes in EMS before I bought them and I can’t maintain a vertical position. Then, the guys that are helping me on the study, have beat up sneakers and botas de hule (rain boots – PS that cost about $6.50 [130 Lempiras]) and they’re running circles around me on the steepest part of the study.

The particular study I am working on at the moment gave me the immense pleasure of having to cross a gazillion creeks. Now, I am developing a conspiracy theory that the U.S., in its quest to be perfect, has actually visited every creek in the U.S. and has arranged stones to make for easy crossing. Seriously, because Honduras does not have that and I don’t ever remember falling in a creek in the States. EVER!
The first day of the study my right boot squished the entire day because I managed to dip it in every body of water that we crossed. At the end of the second day my crossing skills were so poor that I might as well have just walked into the stream and just stood there. Ridiculous. By the second crossing we needed to make, which has fewer stepping rocks and was deeper, I just Carrie Bradshaw-running-in-heels “skipped” across the stream. I even added in her high pitched squeals for good measure.

What’s really funny is I’m a girl. See, in Honduras, women don’t do these sorts of things. Just so happens, that that second day the mountain had really kicked my @$$ and not only were my pants wet up to my knees, but absolutely covered in mud as well. Conveniently enough there was a meeting in ODECO right when I got (actually both days). Now day #1 was a meeting just within my office, which means they lock up the entire office and go into the conference room, which can be accessed outside. I’d be damned if I was going to walk that equipment back to my house, so I stood outside dancing around because of the immense embarrassment of having to interrupt the meeting, especially looking the way I did. Finally, I just went for it, like diving into freezing water … I opened the door and added a quick, “Disculpe…” and Carrie Bradshaw skipped as fast as I could into the main office. GOD THE SHAME! They all stared. I could feel it!

Anyways, the second day I didn’t have to interrupt my co-workers, but I did have to enter into the office when there were a bunch of families standing around, which meant the presence of several women. I walk in with my wet pants and frizzy hair and I literally could hear gasps. Literally. I waited around the office for the rain to chill out and I could hear women saying, “Do you see her? Que SUCIA! (How dirty!) Pobrecita (Poor thing!).” At least they aren’t criticizing me, but they feel bad for me, because it’s as if ODECO and Peace Corps are forcing me to do this work and get that dirty. In actuality, it’s because I am, apparently, completely inept at walking.
As a result of my inability to cross so much as a puddle, whenever we come across some semblance of a body of water, Niche, the fontanero (master plumber for the water system) holds my hands as I cross. Keeps me dry, but also brings snickers from his sons who are helping us.

That was a long sidenote. I’ll shorten the rest of the story then … I’m laying on my yoga mat trying to do sit-ups while systematically fighting off my puppy and I hear a sharp rap at my BACK door. Now, if it were Carlos Arturo his sing song voice would be calling my name. Apart from him no one should be visiting my house unannounced … HMMM! It was so wonderful too because I was still in my pajamas at around 10:00 am (work had been canceled). I slowly walk out to my back porch and find a man standing there that looks vaguely familiar, but it takes me a while to place him. He’s the guy who actually owns the house, the son of the people I’ve coordinated with to get the lease, etc.

He was just stopping by because he is in Corquin for a couple of days (he lives on their coffee finca) and wanted to check on the house. We were talking about stuff that needed to be done and he alerted me that he had sent someone to spray weed killer on my yard (the weeds were so big that even my gigantic puppy would get lost walking around in them). I wish he had told me that before and I am disappointed they also sprayed the flowers, but at least some things are getting done around here.

So, we’re standing there talking about various things and all the sudden Bourbon comes rushing around the corner with my bright pink, lacey Victoria’s Secret bra hanging from his mouth! The bra was one of the many clothing casualties, but one that I couldn’t sew back together so it was relinquished to Bourbon as a chew toy. I couldn’t have been more mortified and Jefferson (the guy) was obviously less mortified. I wanted to scream, “My underwear isn’t that fancy! That was the fanciest one! The others are cream and white! Nothing special!” I mean, Honduran men already have this idea that American women are incredibly sexually liberated and we’re sex goddesses. Now, excuse me for trying to set them right, but I don’t need any more attention on the streets than I already get and my dog running around with my lacey bra is precisely what I don’t want them to see.

To make things even better, when I left the house about an hour later I saw that Bourbon had deposited the bra on my front porch! AWESOME.


So this blog is entitled dog woes and that’s mostly because Bourbon has been a slight jerk the past few days. I was gone for about a week for Halloween and then I did work for a few days after that in a friend’s site. Bourbon stayed with my counter-part, Carlos Arturo. Apparently, he didn’t handle being tied-up outside well, but when they let him in the house he felt it was acceptable to jump up on their furniture. He can’t sleep anywhere that isn’t 100% comfortable.
After I got back I left again for an overnight trip to Santa Rosa to say good-bye to two friends. Bourbon stayed with my sitemate that night and apparently decided it was acceptable to poop and pee all over their front porch. PERFECT!

He was mad at me for being gone so long and I understand that. It’s really annoying that my damn dog is so damn vindictive, but what can I do? Well, yesterday I went to the office and left Bourbon on the line out back. Came home for a little bit to make lunch and then left again for about an hour to run some errands. I come home and he’s pulled my jeans and a nice shirt off the laundry line. Now, the jeans which already have holes and I only wear on studies are untouched. BUT! The nice pink shirt which was one of the only shirts I have left without stains/holes has a beautiful quarter-sized hole right in the front of the shirt. Will I sew it back together? Of course. Was I livid? You betcha!

As a punishment he stayed locked up on the line for the rest of the time I was home and then during my English classes. I told myself I would keep him out there all night, because I need to get him accustomed to being A DOG!, but I couldn’t be that mean and let him in.

Well, my allergies seemed to have taken on a new form of let’s-try-to-make-Hannah’s-head-explode and I was doing one of those fifteen sneezes in a row performances. I felt like crap and settled into bed with the cheery movie “Dark Knight” at around 7:30 pm. Another scheme of mine to get Bourbon less attached to me (and also reduce the ridiculous sneezing) is that he is now sleeping in his own room. Well, he didn’t like being excluded and it took a while for him to settle down. A couple of times I found him sleeping on the two chairs in my main room, which made me fly into a rage, “You little :expletive:! Why are you so bad?!”

What I have learned about a puppy is that if they are perfectly quiet they are destroying something or doing something bad. He was silent and all I could picture was him chewing my shoes. I paused the movie and grabbed my cell phone to light the house (it does a really poor job, PS).

“Where are you? What are you doing?”

He wasn’t in his dog bed and he wasn’t chewing shoes. Then I hear a “slurp.”

“Dammit are you licking my soap again?!” Puppy comes flying out from the shower curtain and in an attempt to grap him I smack my head on the wooden door frame. That was exactly the opposite of what I needed for my head at the moment. It hurt so bad I couldn’t even think or at least to think more than locking him in his room and crawling back into bed. That’s what I get for sometimes losing my mind with him, but when he gets several things in one day I just can’t handle it!

This morning I didn’t roll out of bed until 9 am, which is like sleeping in until 1 pm in the States. Noise here starts around 6 am when the construction workers get to the site in the morning. Usually I can force myself to sleep until 7 am if I am lucky. Today I was comatose until 7 am and that might have something to do with the two Benadryl I took in the middle of the night …

In my sneezing, I’m sleeping stupor I decided I couldn’t handle it anymore, and without even getting up, reached under my bed and pulled out my Peace Corps medical kit. I pulled it up onto my bed, found my cell phone and rummaged through it until I found the plastic bag holding Benadryl. I Ripped off two capsules, threw the briefcase sized medical kit on the floor, and took the Benadryl. Honestly, I was so desperate I wouldn’t be surprised if I had chewed them. I woke up this morning and was kind of disoriented when I saw how late it was. How could I manage to sleep this late? I look over at my night stand and see the two empty packages and laugh, “Oh Hannah.” I don’t know if that’s not safe, but all I know is I slept beautifully the rest of the night and I no longer feel as though my head is going to explode … maybe that’s because I killed so many brain cells.

When I got up this morning and looked into Bourbon’s room (I had been up earlier to let him out and feed him) he had been chewing the Frisbee that was given to me and he had pulled off my bookshelf.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I like being able to say that!